


Moon and Her Maiden

by missmungoe



Series: Shanties for the Weary Voyager [19]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/M, Pre-Series, Romance, Secret Identity, Selkies, Sirens
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:35:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 44,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27823837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmungoe/pseuds/missmungoe
Summary: The first time Shanks crosses paths with a selkie along the darkened Fuschia shore, it doesn't even cross his mind that they've met before.
Relationships: Akagami no Shanks | Red-Haired Shanks/Makino
Series: Shanties for the Weary Voyager [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/581281
Comments: 70
Kudos: 158





	1. Selkie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My stories about Shanks and Makino have recurring siren and selkie imagery, but this time I thought I'd give the metaphor a literal twist! It's the same OP world and canon, just with a few more fantastic elements thrown in, and...some different twists and turns to their story.
> 
> I hope you like it!

There are rules for her kind, ingrained early and repeated often. The first whisper of the water in a newborn’s ears carries the knowledge, and the currents shape the knowledge into law, until it no longer requires thinking. _It’s like breathing_ , goes the human saying, and sea-folk pilfer things they like.

The rules are as follows:

Don’t let them see you.

Don’t let them catch you.

And most importantly: don’t let anyone steal your pelt.

Stay away from humans, unless you must. And if you have no other choice, there are ways to bind them, to ensure they can't steal another of our kind, as they have done for centuries.

This is what you do:

Stay near the surface of the water, but don’t show yourself too soon. A glimpse is enough to get their hearts racing, and when they do, listen for the rhythm, the leaps and the skips. With practice, you might tell the crooked from the kind, but it makes little difference in the end. When sated, all hearts stop beating.

Of course, the water in their lungs helps things along.

—

Makino had never once thought she was human.

It had always been part of her, a knowledge as unquestionable as the fact that she had a set of legs, and ears, and a beating heart. She wasn’t like the other villagers, the farmers and fishermen who made up the colourful tapestry of her home. She was fae, and had always known that.

But on the surface, she looked human, and might easily be mistaken for one. Only in the witching hour when the moon held court could anyone see there was something off about her appearance—a glimmer in her skin, like the silver coating of a pelt that kept the water running off it, and a dappled pattern across her back and shoulders, speckled spots which a second earlier had been soft, human freckles. Her eyes were dark, brown like earth, and brandy in the sunlight, but on moonlit nights they’d look black, like the deepest parts of the ocean.

She’d found her in the surf, her mother had told her, when Makino had been old enough to ask. She’d been walking along the beach one morning, and there she’d been, a giggling babe in the sand, as though the tide had washed her ashore. Barely a year old, and naked as a newborn, but she hadn’t minded the water, and even dripping wet, hadn’t been cold to the touch, or showed any signs of hypothermia or drowning.

She’d had a small pelt with her, silver with dark spots, and silky to the touch. An odd way to swaddle a babe, her mother had thought.

“Did she come from a shipwreck?” Woop Slap asked, in Party’s later when she’d put her before the hearth, her dark eyes large and mesmerised by the flames dancing over the logs. She’d wrapped her in a blanket, but she still wasn’t shivering, her soft skin like she’d spent the morning on a sun-warmed reef, not in the water. The sealskin she’d put away upstairs, not sure what to do with it.

“We would have heard,” her mother said simply, before returning to her business, an eye kept on the baby in the basket, who’d fallen asleep by the fire. The talk of the village that day, and the following week, but aside from their initial curiosity, her patrons hadn’t needed much incentive to accept her.

They talked, of course, speculating the many possibilities. That she must have been left by someone from the other side of the island, but inquiring about a missing baby in Goa hadn’t yielded any answers. And so with only one explanation remaining, they’d made their peace with it, used to sailor superstition and fishermen’s tales here on the border of the unknown. Those who lived so close to the sea were shaped by it, not like sailors or pirates were, but they had their own respect for the ocean, and weren’t likely to bat an eye at odd things washed ashore with the tide. And so when no other explanation immediately presented itself, it was the only thing that made sense: she must have come from the sea.

This didn’t cause as big of a stir as might have been expected, but then they lived with one foot in either world, and the religious beliefs that held widespread support under the World Government's flag hadn't found a foothold in their little hamlet, where they paid their tributes to older powers. They didn’t fear the sea or its creatures, and their ill-tempered barmaid bringing home a little girl with big, dark eyes and a soft laugh hadn’t raised any alarms. They adored her here, their little sea-maiden.

Her mother had never treated her differently; had simply told her that she was, and that had been the end of it.

“You look like a normal girl to me,” she’d told her, matter-of-fact. “I don’t see why you can’t live as one.”

And appeased by this, Makino had. She’d been schooled like the other children, could read and write, and learned history and mathematics; could assist her mother with her orders by twelve, and had taken them over by the time she turned sixteen, and knew the ins and outs of her business, the import of spirits and how to keep the books. She was praised for her quick wit, although was too gentle to flaunt it, and didn’t care for the attention her peers craved, preferring her own company, and that of the heroes in her books—the stories where someone could be a little different, and it didn’t matter; where heroines had magic, and where they could shapeshift into birds and fish, riding the currents one moment, the squalls the next.

She was, by all accounts, a normal girl. Her mother dressed her like one, although Makino had spent most of her childhood despairing at her preference for plain and drab colours, which was nothing like the seed-pearls and puff sleeves she’d seen the girls in Goa Port wearing, the one time her mother had brought her to the city.

“Mama,” she said, tugging at her hand, en route to the local distillery. The hem of a flaring skirt had caught her eye, sewn with silver bells. “Look.”

Her mother only scoffed, although not unkindly. “You’re already as foolish as they are, what do you need the frippery for? Better to have something hardy that lasts.”

Makino hadn’t argued, but had followed them with her eyes, undeniably human in appearance and manner, and wondered, smoothing her hands over her plain dress, if they could tell she wasn't.

Only the local seamstress humoured her, and stitched her kerchiefs with seed-pearls and scraps of lace, and taught her to embroider and make them herself. “With the right clothes, you can be anything,” she said, a knowing twinkle in her black eyes, as rough, gnarled hands showed her how to do the stitches.

Her eyes widened at this bit of information, and Makino saw from her widening grin that it hadn’t escaped her, as she continued, “Take it from an old woman who’s been many things in her life. You can be a pirate or empress, or even a decorated navy officer. All you’ve got to do is dress the part. Few people look beneath the surface.” Then under her breath, she scoffed, “Fools.”

She wasn’t paying attention to the stitches now. “Can you really be anything?” Makino asked. Then, gently, “Even human?”

Those black crow's eyes met hers. And she’d been too young then to understand why she shouldn’t ask, and it would be years yet until she knew why the old woman hadn’t found the question odd.

“Aye,” Suzume said. “A pretty dress will fool most men.” And, dryly, “A low cut and a flash of cleavage will usually convince the rest.”

Makino frowned. “Cleavage?”

She waved her off. “Mah, don’t worry about that yet. Still a few years until you’ll have something to flash, although by the look of you, I doubt you’ll have much.”

Worrying the slip of fabric in her hands, Makino mulled over the words she had understood. “But it will fool most of them?”

The old woman looked at her, and she wasn't smiling now, but, “Yes,” she said, with a weight she hadn't known to recognise for what it meant. “Most.”

And wanting nothing more than to blend in, to be human, or as close to one as she could manage, Makino had taken the words to heart. She wore her colourful kerchiefs, and her embroidered aprons, too young yet to think of how it might be used to distract, or that there’d come a day when it would be necessary, when there’d be no slipping past the eyes of her mother’s patrons. She didn't know yet that girls only had the freedom of being unnoticed for a brief part of their lives, and that they wouldn’t get it back until they were old crones.

Her pelt was tucked away, safe in a chest in her bedroom. Her mother didn't allow her to take it out, but some days she couldn't help herself. The shimmering coat recalled the surface of the water when the sunlight dappled it, coaxing out a faint blue tinge from the mottled brown pattern. It was warm and supple to the touch, spilling over her hands when she unfolded it in her lap. It had grown from the little pelt her mother had found in the surf that day, big enough to cover her legs with ease when she sat on her knees.

She didn't know when she'd learned what it was for; one day the knowledge had simply been there, as though she'd always known.

And even if she never spoke of it, she thought her mother did, too.

“Seal hunters?”

Garp’s voice rose up from the bar below, the rumbling timbre reaching through the floorboards. Makino was curled up on the landing, listening to them talking as her mother closed up.

Emiko answered, her harder inflections strung with a rare exhaustion after a long day, “Spotted two days ago, just off the coast. A slaughter ship. Hailed from North Blue, I heard."

"And the chest?"

"Bolted with three padlocks." She expelled her breath like a curse. "Somehow, she keeps getting through them."

"Kids will find their way around rules," Garp replied, with wry understanding. "And padlocks."

Her mother didn't answer. Makino tucked her chin to her knees and curled her toes into her nightdress.

Then, "You worried, Em?"

A heavy beat followed, before her mother said, "Wary. This ain’t North Blue. It's unusual for them to come through here, unless they’re hunting for something else." She scoffed. "Could have dealt with that nuisance that keeps scaring the merchant ships away. One day that thing’s going to take someone’s leg off, and then who’s going to bring me my shipments? There’ll be no drink to be had on this side of the island, and what does that leave us? Windmills? Fucking hell. You can bury me tomorrow if that’s the case.”

Garp laughed, and Makino smiled at the sound. Garp was navy, was big and blustering, and kind, and had never told her she was silly. She liked it when he visited. Her mother was different, too; she laughed a lot more.

A lull followed where neither of them spoke, before her mother said, "I might ask you for help soon."

"Need a military-grade padlock?"

The sound of a wet dish-rag hitting something had Garp swearing so loudly Makino clapped her hands over her mouth, but she heard her mother's startled laugh.

"You said she had a knack for it," Emiko said. "Haki. If it'll help her..."

Garp said nothing. Makino's eyes were round as she listened, wondering what they were talking about.

Then her mother's voice snapped towards the stairs, making her start, “You best be in bed when I get up there, girl, or I’ll be feeding you to the sea king next!”

Makino scrambled up to bed as fast as her legs could carry her, Garp’s laughter chasing her all the way.

She didn’t have a father, like most girls. For as long as she could remember, it had only been her and her mother, but if she could have picked one, Makino knew who it would have been.

“For me?”

Garp peered down his considerable height at the sea-shell where she held it out shyly, an empty conch that fit perfectly into the cup of her palms. It had a beautiful pattern, and the inside was the soft pink of a Fuschia sunset. Makino had fished it up from the seabed that morning, at the bottom of the hidden cove that lay between Fuschia and Goa Port. The only way to reach it without risking falling to your death from the surrounding crags was by the sea, and even proficient swimmers didn't dare on account of the strong currents. It was one of her favourite spots.

“Don’t usually find these laying around the beach,” he mused, considering the conch where he'd taken it from her hands. The sunlight caught in the ridge along its back, casting a pattern over the shelves behind the bar.

His gaze lifted to hers. “Sure you don't want it for yourself?”

Makino shook her head, her hands tucked nervously in her apron. She’d meant for it to be a gift, but wondered then if she’d made a mistake. Maybe she should have picked one from the beach.

Garp considered her. “You’re a little odd, aren’t you?” he asked her, but before her smile could drop he laughed, and patted her head gently before he tucked the conch into the pocket of his suit. “That’s fine,” he said, to her brightening smile as he winked. “I’m a little odd, too.”

But even unquestionably _odd_ , they didn't treat her any differently than if she'd been a normal girl, and even the stranger quirks barely fazed them. She could swim like a fish and breathe underwater, but in Fuschia it had been explained away as nothing more than unusually strong lungs, and the fishermen didn’t jump when she resurfaced between their dinghies, one of their nets loosened from where it had gotten stuck, only laughed good-naturedly as she pulled her sopping skirts out of the water, her kerchief lost to the depths and her mother ashore with her hands on her hips, and wearing an expression that told her she was late for her shift.

“Sorry,” Makino said, pushing her wet hair out of her face as she struggled up the shore. Her clothes were dripping, her frock heavy where it clung to her legs, but she didn’t shiver.

Her mother’s lips formed an unimpressed line, but where Makino expected a scolding, something else passed behind her eyes, and what she said was, “You should be more careful.”

She blinked, startled. “It wasn’t even that deep.”

She saw her glance down at the fishermen, busy mending the net she’d rescued, the blown-glass bindama bobbing on the water. A hot midday sun lay low over the harbour, and their little village on the sand.

“This is a small community,” she said, as their eyes met. And her mother's had always been hard, a pale blue so different from her own, but there was something in them now that Makino had never seen before. “But the world is bigger than this port, and there are people who won’t understand.”

Makino frowned, her hands fisted in her sopping frock. The flicker of victory she’d felt at rescuing the net had dimmed. “Understand what?”

Her mother’s mouth firmed, a hard, unyielding line. “What you are,” she said, and the reminder hit her like a slap, but her mother’s look was without apology. “Those who fear the sea, and its gifts.” Then, her look darkening, “And then there are those who will understand, and they’re the ones you need to watch out for the most.”

She gripped her chin gently, forcing her eyes up from where she’d dropped them. “Do you understand me, Makino? Those who know the sea think they can tame it, and they’re the most dangerous. The second they know what you are, they’ll be trying to tame you, so you best beware that none of them catch you doing what you just did.”

She didn’t tell her what would happen if they did, and it would take her years before she would understand the full meaning of her mother’s words, and the danger of those who might discover her secret, and what they might do with it.

But she understood enough, and swallowing thickly, Makino nodded. “I’ll be careful.”

Satisfied by what she found in her eyes, Emiko touched her head, then scoffed over a rare smile. “Let’s get you a change of clothes,” she said, as she turned towards the bar, before adding, with a more characteristic drawl, “You’re not dripping half of East Blue over my clean floors.”

Grinning, Makino hoisted her wet frock and followed.

But her mother’s words lingered, and as she grew older, she grew more careful. Visitors to Fuschia were rare, but she learned to make herself as unassuming as possible, blending in between the laughter and the louder personalities under Party’s roof. The girl serving the drinks, nothing more, and Makino learned the tricks to keep their eyes from staying.

She’d close the shutters on the windows in the evening, blaming an old house and a bad draft for any who questioned it. Truth was, she feared the moonlight, which pulled secrets from under the surface, made her freckles darker and her eyes black, and while only a waxing moon could show her for what she really was, her skin mottled with silver and pearl, even the little changes were things that made a wary sailor look twice, and she couldn’t afford that. She needed them to look past her, to not notice her as anything but a barmaid with a soft voice and gentle manners, although the older she grew, the more difficult it became, her body filling out her dresses, and suddenly, her soft voice drew their eyes instead, before her face held them, as though tethered.

And she felt the difference, in their lingering looks as she worked, and the pitch of their voices when they asked her to stay a moment longer by their tables, although more than their eyes and their attentions, she felt their desire.

It had always been a part of her, since long before she’d felt it directed towards herself. It was a song she’d known since before she could think, that hummed in her blood, under her skin, and under her breath while she worked. She knew the desires of others, the language of their hearts, the words as clear as if they’d spoken them to her. Hearing it was second-nature, just like the knowledge that accompanied it.

She knew the power that sang through her veins, and what she was capable of doing. She’d never acted on it in any way, had never drowned a man just to see what would happen, had simply known that she _could_.

But she had no interest in drowning anyone, and aside from the song, and her other little quirks, she wasn't that different from a human. Her actions would define her, Makino decided; not her nature.

But no matter how comfortable she grew in her disguise, in her gentle charade, there was one thing she couldn’t fake, and that had always marked her as different from those around her, whose hearts told her their stories, and their longing.

Humans wanted things, wealth and power, love, and other people. They craved it with a hunger that scared her sometimes, although more than anything, Makino envied them.

All her life, she’d been content. Happy with her gentle, uneventful days, her familiar routines. The only hunger she knew was that of others, and even with her little vices, her books and daydreams and love of stories, it wasn’t the same. It didn’t set her heart afire, didn’t send it soaring in her chest, only to plummet down to the bottom of her gut. No yearning had ever left her awake at night, tossing and turning, unable to eat or think or sleep. Even heartbreak she wished she could have experienced once, if only to know the feeling that could cause it, the kind she’d only ever felt in the hearts of others, that could be beautiful and terrible in equal measure. It was the one thing about being human she wished for the most, not to be like one but to _feel_ like one.

She’d tried looking for it, growing up, thinking that maybe she just hadn’t found it yet. Some days she liked to sit on the reefs and look for passing ships, and search for the stirring she’d heard described by so many sailors, regulars and newcomers to her mother’s bar, who hadn’t found it odd that the little serving girl with the colourful kerchiefs and big brown eyes asked them what they loved most about the sea.

“It’s a feeling,” one had said, a fist clenched above his considerable paunch. “You know it in your gut.”

“Nay, ‘s in your _soul_ you feel it,” another claimed, to murmurs of agreement from the crowded room

“You’re both wrong. Heart’s where it’s at,” a third said, patting his chest. “It’s in here. Pumps saltwater through our veins.”

“Saltwater?”

They’d all laughed, but good-humoured, at her wide-eyed belief. “Aye, lass. It’s what keeps us so thirsty.”

She’d mulled over this for years, watching the sea from the reefs, but there was no stirring in her chest or her gut urging her to discover it, and she felt no thirst beyond her usual needs, at the thought of treasure and fame.

On overcast days, she’d strip down to her skin, the clouds shielding her from the open sky, and dress in sea-spray and salt. She loved the water, the gentle East Blue with her green shallows and dark, velvet depths where she’d swim amidst the kelp forests. It was always at her fingertips, and even knowing there were other seas, oceans that were bigger and more dangerous than hers, she only felt wary at the thought of seeing them. She’d built her life here, comfortable in her disguise, but she had no idea how it would hold up beyond these docks, where people were less accepting, or like her mother had warned her: where there’d be those who’d want her, as though in capturing her, they could tame the sea.

She did sometimes wonder if there were more like her beyond the horizon. There were stories, brought ashore by her patrons, telling of beautiful creatures, an underwater kingdom leagues under the sea, where girls had fins like fish, and a hidden isle of women with slitted yellow eyes and forked tongues. They had many names, the sea-folk, and different myths told different stories of their natures—that they were cruel, or kind, or indifferent, although all seemed to agree on one thing: that sailors ought to beware, for they knew the hearts of men, and how to twist them.

Makino wondered if they heard the song, too, and if that was what bound them, otherwise different. And she might have liked to meet one, if only so she could ask her questions, the ones her mother had never been able to answer.

But as for leaving Fuschia…

She’d spent so long in the company of humans, Makino didn’t know how to live in a different world, or if she would even want to. And so she didn’t feel a yearning to find them, or their hidden courts. Not like sailors did, the sea-longing that kept them from their homes, chasing something they could never reach; or pirates, searching for Gold Roger’s treasure. She was happy here, on her sun-warmed shore, between the four sturdy walls of her mother’s bar. She didn’t want the horizon, or what lay beyond it.

And so she lived, safe and sheltered by the gentle sea that had first brought her ashore. She grew older, and if not exactly wiser of the world, then of the people in it.

And she found someone a little like her, if not exactly the same.

When she'd been thirteen, Garp had brought his grandson to stay, and they found a kinship, having both been left behind, and even if he hadn’t been brought ashore by the tide, Luffy was the first Makino had felt was like her—different, if not for the same reason, but it didn’t matter why, and she protected him like she’d been protected, the odd little boy whose heart had a song unlike any other.

“Ma-chan,” he said one day, sitting at her counter as she worked. “Did I come from the sea, too?”

Turning around, she found him worrying his glass, the juice within untouched. He must have heard talk around the village, old enough to listen now.

“No,” she said, smiling as she rested her hands on the counter. “Your grandpa brought you here when you were a baby.”

Luffy chewed on that for a bit. Five years old now, he was no longer a baby, but was still young, and learning about the world, a hundred new questions ready for her every day that she did her best to answer, even with her limited knowledge.

She spared a silent prayer that he wouldn't ask her where babies came from, but that didn’t seem to be where his thoughts had ventured, as he cocked his head at her, squinting his eyes. “I don’t get it,” he said. “You don’t look like one.”

Her brows knitted gently. “Like what?”

“A sea monster.”

Her laugh blurted from her, loud and startled, and his pensive expression let slip a small smile, as though he liked that he’d made her laugh.

Leaning her elbows on the counter, “And what does a sea monster look like?” Makino asked.

His mouth twisted as he took a moment to think about it, before he made a wide motion with his arms. “It’s big.”

She nodded. “Of course.”

“And it’s got lots of teeth.” For emphasis, he bared his own, a few of them missing.

“Mm. Sharp ones, I’m guessing?”

“Yeah! And scales!”

Leaning her weight on her elbows, she laced her hands under her chin. “What else?”

He thought for a bit, before he deadpanned, “It’s really ugly.”

Her mouth pursed with her smile. “You don’t think I’m ugly, then?”

“Of course not!”

He said it with such acute assurance, as though she might as well have asked him if he thought the sunset was ugly, and her heart swelled, catching her off guard.

Luffy blinked when she cupped his cheek, as Makino huffed softly, and thought there wasn’t a heart on this sea he couldn’t have won over with that candour. “I’m glad you don’t think I look like a sea monster,” she said, and heard that her voice wavered, always terrible at hiding her feelings, but then he was thankfully a bit too young to pick up on the subtler nuances of expression and tone. “It sounds really scary.”

Luffy nodded emphatically. And she was glad of his innocence then, and his way of looking at the world, with a child’s easy dichotomy, separating the good from the bad into those with sharp teeth and scales and those without them, because she was old enough now to know that in truth, the real monsters were often those who didn’t look like them.

“Luffy,” she said gently, and smiled when he looked up. “You’d protect me, wouldn’t you? If a big, scary sea monster showed up?”

His reaction was predictable, and all the more wonderful for it as he squared his small shoulders, his expression fierce and the vow delivered without a beat of hesitation, “I will!”

Smiling, Makino watched him gulp down his glass, before requesting a refill, and hoped then that he wouldn’t know the world for its monsters for a long while yet, and that when he did, he wouldn’t treat her any differently.

But the ebb and flow of life in Fuschia continued, and no monsters showed up, brandishing sharp fangs or anything else. She rose with the sun every morning, and ran her business like always; took over officially when her mother passed, but aside from more responsibilities, little else changed about her almost-human life.

Until one day, when a ship drew into port.

She’d never met a pirate before. Like so many other things, piracy was part of a different world, the one beyond the far horizon where the Pirate King had once reigned. Her only point of reference had been the newspaper, and the wanted posters that sometimes accompanied them, and Garp’s stories of the ones he’d hunted, but there hadn’t been a pirate in this part of East Blue in over thirty years, until the morning a whole crew stepped through her doors, as though the sea had washed them ashore.

Their laughter filled her bar, their voices raised, carrying wondering remarks about an unusually gentle voyage, and amusement at their wary welcome, although Makino could barely hear them over the loudness of their hearts, pulsing in her ears, in her whole body, the combined symphony of their desires so great she was surprised it left her standing, feeling how it crashed against her.

No one in Fuschia had ever felt like this, their desires gentler, and for humbler things; for a good day's catch and a bountiful harvest, and a drink when the day was done. These desires were anything but humble, claiming space, _daring_ to. Longing for the sea, for discovery and adventure, for joy and for peace, although more than anything, for _freedom_.

She’d never felt anything so strong, so shamelessly _wanting_ , but it filled her now, swept her up like a whirlpool as they crowded the common room of her bar. It rushed to her head, leaving her dizzy, like she’d just tossed back a glass of her mother’s moonshine.

"Easy, now! You're scaring the poor girl."

A warm voice cut through the cacophony, a single clear note within the roaring discordance, and her heart, usually so quiet, _responded_.

All at once, the world ceased, like churning waters had been compelled to settle, not just the pirates but the song within her, a sudden hush left in its wake as her eyes were drawn to the figure who’d spoken.

The captain had stepped out of the throng of pirates crowding her doorway, distinguished from the rest by the way he held himself, but Makino would have known him as the speaker even if he hadn’t come forward.

The sound of his heart filled her. Even against his whole crew it stood out, a song of distant shores and wide-open skies, and boundless freedom, leaving her suddenly short of breath, although that might be partly attributed to the fact that he was also the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.

A high brow arched regally over clever grey eyes and a straight, attractive nose, and he had a wide, sensual mouth that looked made for smiling, stretched in a rakish grin as he beheld her where she'd taken refuge behind the bar. He had red hair, and a dark stubble covered his cheeks and his throat, highlighting the chiselled angles of his face. Over his left eye and brow, three deep scars had been gouged into his skin, although they seemed no less part of his face than any of his other striking features.

The rest of him wasn’t any less outrageous, taking in the generously open shirt where it strained over his shoulders and around his upper arms where he’d rolled up his sleeves to his biceps, and the dark hair climbing up a ridiculously built chest, all of him ruggedly handsome in a way she’d only ever seen featured on glossy covers. She hadn’t thought humans actually looked like this.

For a long beat, Makino could do nothing but stare stupidly, and barely heard what he said when he introduced himself and the crew behind him. Only when he cocked his head at her did she realise she hadn’t responded to whatever he’d asked her.

“What?” he chuckled, a shockingly pleasant sound. “Have I got something on my face?”

“Think you might need to repeat yourself, Boss,” said one of the pirates beside him, a brown-skinned man with blond curls and sharp eyes, whose heart longed for pride, although without the usual arrogance.

The captain grinned, delighted by this for some reason that escaped Makino. His eyes had never left hers, and, “Shanks,” he said, with a gesture to himself, and she realised abruptly that it was his name, and felt how it hooked itself in her chest. “Sorry for barging in like this. I’d gathered from the cheerful ostracism as we disembarked that you’re not a fan of pirates here. Had I known, I would have toned down the swashbuckling a bit.” His grin lifted his cheeks. “Can’t really help it, though. These buckles swash themselves.”

When she failed to react, at least with something that wasn't gawking, “No?” he ventured. “Damn. That one usually kills in most bars.”

He got a sympathetic clap to his shoulder. “Try a different angle, Cap,” said the one with the curls, a knowing glance thrown her way, along with a grin as he chirped, “Or less pecs.” Then he swept a dramatic bow to her, before moving to take a seat, the others following suit.

The captain was still looking at her, the twinkle in his eyes like he’d taken that as a challenge. Makino saw how his gaze swept across her, a gentler examination than her own, although the kindling in his eyes wasn’t subtle, trained on her waist where her bodice cinched it, before lifting to her eyes, where they stayed. And it was broad daylight, and no moon to coax out her unnatural features, but he was looking at her like he might have found her on the shore in the moonlight, his features frozen.

Someone behind him cleared their throat, and Makino saw him blink, before he seemed to realise what he’d been doing, which was nothing.

“Sorry,” Shanks said, shaking his head, before he cleared his throat. “Forgot my manners on the ship. And look! My jaw on the floor.” He grinned at her, before it fell. “Wow, tough crowd. Okay, I’ll bite.” His eyes gleamed, before he quipped, “Not very hard though, unless that’s something you’re into?”

She wasn’t prepared for the comment any more than her own reaction to it, the scalding blush that climbed up her throat, and she saw how his smile lifted with delight.

“There were go,” he chuckled, as he took a seat at the counter, and it took Makino a second to catch up and remember that she was the one running the bar, and then to remind herself what that entailed, observing the suddenly crowded common room where there’d five minutes ago been only two customers, both of which were now nowhere to be seen.

“What’s your name?”

His voice pulled her back, and she blinked, and tried to remember what her name was. She wasn’t usually this scatterbrained.

“Makino,” she said, after an embarrassing second, although thankfully only with a small stutter, and watched as his smile softened, as though at the sound of it.

“Makino,” he repeated, with a deliberate enunciation that had her stomach erupting into flutters. No one had ever spoken her name like that—like a token.

Then Shanks cocked his head, his gaze fleeting to her cheeks. “You have the cutest freckles.”

Her whole face flushed, caught even more off guard by that than by his earlier comment, and she saw from the grin that stretched along his mouth that he’d found his footing. It probably didn’t help that she was so obvious.

“Thank you,” Makino said, although realised belatedly how awkward _that_ sounded, and wondered if she shouldn’t have tried to say something more clever, or parried the compliment with one of her own, like the heroines in her books always did.

A beat followed, where she mentally berated herself for being a complete idiot.

“So,” Shanks said, lifting his eyes to something behind her. “As much as I would love to sit here and talk about your freckles, I’d hate to be a hindrance to your business, seeing as you run a pretty nice establishment here, so how about I make myself useful and place an order? That’s what a decent customer does, I’ve heard. Support local businesses and all that. And since every shop from here to the docks bolted their doors at the sight of me, I guess we’ll spend our coin here.” He met her eyes, this time with a smile that reached deep into his, as he lowered his voice an octave. “Not that you'll hear me complaining.”

He was flirting. And he wasn’t the first who’d tried, but no one had ever been so brazen about it, and yet at the same time, so curiously humble.

It was hard keeping her expressions in check, and her relentless blush, which had gotten so comfortable in her cheeks, Makino wondered if it had any plans of ceasing, her skin revealing secrets that had nothing to do with her nature, but that were no less incriminating, observing the warmly knowing smile across the counter.

Her stomach did a little flip, and startled, she smoothed her hands over her apron, as though to hide it, but her smile refused to be hidden away, at least with his eyes on her like that, but she felt a flicker of pride when she found her voice steady and calm, and just maybe, a little bit flirty.

“Then can I get you anything, Captain?” Makino asked, and hoped, foolishly, that he would say _yes, you._

Shanks grinned at her, his whole face lighting up, as though he'd discovered something he hadn't counted on finding, and for the first time in a whole life of knowing only the desires of others, Makino knew what it meant to _want_.

—

They called themselves the Red-Hair Pirates, which was a fitting moniker, Makino thought, as her gaze had been drawn repeatedly back to his hair throughout the evening, especially the way he raked his fingers through it, or how it would sometimes fall gently into his brow. It was more than a little distracting, and she knew he’d noticed her looking, from the way he kept catching her in the act, although Shanks thankfully didn’t call her out on it, even as the smile stretched along the rim of his glass didn’t try to pretend he hadn’t seen.

She learned a lot, the evening they spent in her bar—that he was from West Blue; that he’d been a captain a good ten years, which surprised her, until she learned that he was a good deal older than her, with almost a decade between them. He was left-handed, and a swordsman, and had a preference for single malt whiskey, although he'd barely touched the drink she'd put down before him, but then they'd been talking since he'd sat down, the only exception being when she actually had to do her job, which she kept forgetting, to her continued distress, although her distraction hadn't been met with anything but knowing smiles.

Oh, her mother would have given her an earful had she been alive, although Makino wasn't entirely convinced she couldn't manage one from the beyond, if she kept acting like a fool.

He also had a comeback for everything, and his laughter alone was loud enough to fill the room whole. Makino had spent most of the evening trying to lure it out, although she’d rather not think too hard about whether he’d actually found her funny, or if he’d been laughing at her attempts.

And whatever she’d thought she knew about pirates, it had all been cheerfully disproved by the end of the night, at least as far as this crew was concerned. There’d been no unwelcome advances or leering looks, although she was painfully certain there wasn’t a single member of Shanks' crew who’d missed her reaction to him, at least going by the grins they weren’t quick enough to hide. But they let her get away with it, and engaged her in conversation when she walked by their tables; complemented her cooking and her drinks, which left her chest so full, Makino felt like she could have floated back to the bar, unused to so much reckless praise, and from people who’d been strangers only a few hours earlier.

They also emptied half her pantry, and paid her as though they’d emptied the whole thing twice over, cheerfully in spite of her protests.

“It’s too much,” Makino objected, watching as they kept leaving coins on her bar, although some made a point of doing it when she wasn’t looking. Not all of them, though. “Yasopp-san, I saw that!”

Yasopp's laughter drifted back, and as though in cheeky retaliation, he tossed a gold crown in the air, before he flipped it with his elbow, sending the coin soaring smoothly in a high arc over the counter and right into the decorative bowl atop the highest shelf, well out of her reach, to a holler of approval from the departing crew, as Makino was left gaping.

When she looked to him for assistance, Shanks just shook his head, although his grin was unapologetic. “Can’t take them anywhere.”

She was about to protest again when she blinked, reaching into the front pocket of her apron, finding three more crowns there, and folded her lips demurely.

Shanks' look was innocent. “I have no idea how those got there. I swear. Oh, look at that.” Another appeared between his fingers, the nimble maneuver stealing her gaze momentarily, and long enough for him to flip it smoothly into one of the jars on her shelves. It made a chiming sound, before settling.

When she fixed him with a look, “What?” Shanks asked, and grinned when she firmed her lips in attempted reproach, although wondered if she succeeded. “We live for cheerful excess.”

Makino held her tongue from saying she was well aware, that their hearts had already told her, and loudly, and curled her fingers around the coins, unsure of why she felt like this, as though part of her wanted to say she’d rather have their company than their gold.

But, “Come on,” Shanks said, with a smile that was used to getting what it wanted, although it seemed at odds with what he was trying to convince her, which wasn’t for his own sake. “Let us spoil you a bit. It’s been a long time since we’ve been welcomed like this. We just want to show our appreciation.”

Her mouth pursed, but her stubbornness had found its match in that smile, and with a breath, Makino relented, although was quick to add, “Will you at least let me make you breakfast on the house?”

Shanks' smile softened, and she didn't understand why before he said, “That’s an incredibly generous offer, but we’re setting sail at first light.”

Her face fell, like her heart. “Oh,” she said, and knew she wasn't quick enough to hide her disappointment, but had averted her eyes before he could catch the whole show. She hadn’t realised how much she’d hoped they’d be staying—that she'd been counting on it—until he proved her wrong now. “That makes sense. There’s not much to see around here but windmills.”

“And melons,” Shanks reminded her, which made her smile, but then he had a way about him that made her think he remembered things about people. “A shame I won’t get to see them.”

“I think they’ll live through the disappointment,” Makino said, hoping her attempted levity could help mask her own, but if it didn’t, at least he did her the kindness of pretending he didn’t see it.

Shanks was looking at her, his expression thoughtful, although unlike hers, his face surrendered none of his thoughts.

They were standing before the bar, the only ones left, with the rest of his crew gone back to the ship. The shutters over the windows kept the moonlight out, and an intimate dark wrapped around the room, eased by the embers glowing in the open hearth and the lamps she'd lit, the warm light stroking gently over the ceiling beams and the bottles on her shelves.

He was so tall she had to tip her head back to meet his eyes, and she became suddenly very aware of how small she was compared to him. The difference hadn't felt so striking while they'd had the counter between them, but there was no avoiding it now, taking in his big frame where he towered over her. She could feel the heat rising off his body, and his bare chest felt suddenly dangerously close.

She was also acutely aware that they were alone, although didn't know if the trepidation that filled her was a pleasant feeling, or just the opposite.

His eyes hadn't left hers, and she had the sudden fear that he'd unearth more than one of her secrets if he kept looking at her like that.

“Where will you be going next?” Makino blurted, hoping it might distract him from looking too closely at her eyes, or anything else that might give her away, although she wasn't sure exactly which truth she was afraid he might discover.

But his smile didn't suggest he'd found anything. “We’ll see where the wind takes us," Shanks said. "Maybe a quaint little village like this, although I doubt the bar will live up to yours.”

From anyone else, it might have been just a platitude, or even an attempt to charm, but from him it just sounded honest—an entirely unembellished remark, which didn’t seek to endear himself in her eyes, only stated the truth as he saw it.

Makino didn’t know why that made her sadder than if he’d just been saying it to be nice.

“Then I wish you a safe voyage,” she said, and hoped he couldn’t hear how rough her voice sounded. “It was nice meeting you all.”

Smiling, “And you,” Shanks said, but then with a different inflection, “Makino.”

He'd made to leave when he hesitated a beat, and there was a split second where Makino thought he was going to say something more when Shanks smiled, and flipped his straw hat smoothly on his head. “Have a good night.”

She couldn’t stamp down her disappointment. And she didn’t even know what she’d hoped he would say, but was left feeling suddenly bereft. “Goodnight, Captain," she murmured.

The bat-wing doors swung softly in his wake, the whining seeming to highlight the sudden emptiness of her bar. And she wasn’t unused to quiet, but she’d never known it to feel like this, as though the song of their hearts had made such an impression, now that it was gone, all she could notice was its absence.

Her gaze held the doors until they stopped swinging, before realising with a start that she’d been hoping he would come back, and forcibly turned herself around, in search of something to put her hands to before she did something embarrassing, like chase after him.

Shaking her head, she cupped her cheeks, her palms cool against her skin. She felt flushed, like she was running a fever, and her stomach was in knots.

She didn’t know what had gotten into her, reduced overnight to a simpering lunatic just because a handsome pirate had walked into her bar. She didn't even know what she'd hoped would come of it. She’d never been with a man, and before tonight, had had no pressing desire to change that. She’d been curious, of course, but her fears that they’d discover what she was had always kept her from pursuing anything, and there hadn’t been anyone who’d interested her enough to want to tempt the Fates.

But then, Shanks.

One evening, and suddenly all she could think about was what it would feel like to be touched by him, and kissed, things she’d only ever read about. She’d never known human pleasure, and hadn’t known that yearning could feel like _this_ , but thought she understood then, why desire was such a potent feeling, and why it made people act like fools.

And she’d thought, naively, that the way he’d acted had suggested some kind of interest. He’d been flirting with her, and had spent most of the night at the counter where she was, had been so _easy_ to talk to, and so quick to laugh, and she’d thought he'd felt the same, and that he might have acted on it. She'd been waiting for it, Makino realised, with not a small amount of surprise, although more for the fact that she'd wanted it. There hadn’t been many propositions in her life—visitors were, after all, rare, and those who lived in Fuschia would never—but the ones there had been she’d seen coming, having felt the desire in their hearts before they'd asked her. And she knew when men’s hearts desired different things, but she hadn’t felt that from him. It wasn’t that his preferences were different, although she didn’t know if she would have preferred that, for the rejection she felt now.

There had been interest there, but then it had been gone, as though he’d decided against it, but she didn’t know what she’d done to make him change his mind, or why she felt so disappointed in herself. It should have been a relief, not having to worry that he'd discover what she was, or what he might do with that information, and yet she didn't feel relieved, just saddened.

But the way he looked, and carried himself. He could probably have any girl he wanted, and so why would he bother with a shy, easily-flustered barmaid?

For the first time in her life of hiding, of making herself small and invisible, if only to be safe, Makino wished she could have been the kind of girl who would draw the attention of someone like him.

She looked towards the bat-wing doors, and the quiet village beyond. They'd all be at the ship by now, their party continuing, or at least their parting words had announced as much. They'd respected her final call of the night, but she couldn't help but feel a pang of regret now for sending them off so soon. And by all rights, she should have been exhausted after a whole night on her feet, and with more customers than she saw in a month, and yet the thought of tidying up and going to bed, to fall asleep and wake up and start her day as normal, felt like the last thing she wanted to do.

He was leaving tomorrow, and then she’d never see him again. No one ever came back to Fuschia twice, and she’d given him no reason to even think he should. And she didn’t know what to do with the feeling that filled her, the longing so fierce, Makino wondered how humans could endure it and keep living.

She wanted to see him one last time.

She finished closing up the bar, letting her work distract her from her thoughts, the glasses and plates washed and dried and the floor mopped to shining, before she calmly untied and put away her apron, and blew out the last lamp.

The village was asleep as she stepped out onto the porch. There were no lanterns lit—to better hide from pirates, which seemed a bit superfluous now, Makino conceded wryly—and the night lay heavily between the fishing cottages as she made herself one of its shadows.

The full moon watched from the sky, seeming bigger than usual where it loomed over the sea and the slatted rooftops. She felt the strange pull, as though it held the same power over her kind as it did over the tide, drawing her secrets to the surface, her silver-spotted pelt reflected in her skin, and it was a dangerous hour for her to be out and about. If any of the pirates caught her, there’d be no talking herself out of it.

But even if instinct told her to turn back, to shut herself in her room until sunrise and wait for them to raise anchor and leave, there was a stronger pull than even the moon’s light, drawing her through the dark towards the docks.

His ship lay anchored by the quay; Makino had already spotted it coming out on the porch, but then Fuschia was so small it was impossible to miss. Before today, the only ships she'd seen coming into port had been Garp's, and the occasional merchant ship, but they were always smaller vessels, ketches and sloops with one or two masts, carrying liquor or imported goods to smaller ports. The bigger ships always went to Goa.

Red Force, Shanks had called it. It was a big vessel, full-rigged with wood carvings along the gunwales, and with a dragon figurehead extending from the prow. Red lanterns in blown glass hung suspended from the yards, like globes of dragonfire, and light was visible from within what she assumed was the galley, the rounded portholes outlined through the dark.

Makino watched it, mesmerised. She'd never seen a pirate ship, or even a ship like this.

She didn’t take the direct route to the docks, climbing over the fence instead, before making her way down to the water, following the shoreline over the reefs, her frock lifted as she climbed. She hadn't brought a lamp with her, but she didn’t need it to see in the dark with her eyes, and with the moon lighting the way. The sea's black surface shone like a mirror, and the sky was heavy with stars, dark but for a band of light extending from Mt. Colubo to the horizon, like a pathway.

She stopped at a safe distance from the docks, hidden behind a small rise. She could make out the ship’s masts against the night sky, the sails rolled up and secured, and the black flag stirring gently in the breeze.

Unlacing her bodice, she stripped out of her dress, her frock and blouse folded and laid between the rocks, before her silk stockings followed with her boots, rolled up and placed neatly on the little pile, along with her underwear and her kerchief where she slipped it from her hair, the short ends brushing her cheekbones gently as the breeze tossed them.

The air was cool against her bare skin, firming her breasts, but she didn’t feel the cold, and didn’t shiver as she walked into the water. She barely disturbed the surface, and made no sound, the night still but for the soft lapping of the water against the rocks. The moon lit her skin white, and brought out the pattern over her shoulders and her back, but there was no one around to see. Makino had made sure.

She had her sealskin in her hands, the glossy pelt floating in the water where it reached her hips, the moonlight dancing off it causing the darker spots to shine through with blue and silver. Wrapping herself in it, warm and thick where it enveloped her limbs, Makino felt the transformation as it changed her, made her smaller, tiny and sleek, her legs lifting off the seabed until she floated in the water.

She took a second to adjust to her new shape. She didn’t need it to swim, even as it was a different sensation entirely, to feel the sea in this form.

Breathing in, she spared a last glance to the rocks where she’d hidden her clothes, before she turned and dived into the water.

She didn’t make a sound, not even a splash as she dipped under the surface, her tail disappearing behind her. It was darker below, but even without her fey sight she could have found her way with her eyes closed; had grown up swimming here, and knew every stone and reef all the way around the island.

The water offered no resistance, her new form allowing her to glide through it, dipping and rolling where she followed the gentle currents, a familiar exhilaration filling her, and a peace that was unique to being underwater; a quiet that had no equal on the surface world.

She saw the ship’s hull ahead, and her anchors where they’d been dropped, embedded in the sandy bottom. The supports of the old quay appeared through the dark, draped heavily with seaweed. It had stood here since before Makino had been born; a long wooden jetty extending from the port into the sea.

Swimming beneath the quay, she continued up alongside the hull, before poking her head carefully through the surface, just enough to see. This form gave her more courage, and no sailor would jump at the sight of a tiny seal emerging to have a look.

The world was still above the water, but this close to the ship she could hear their voices from within, muffled through the layers of timber.

She didn’t know what she was doing, hadn’t exactly laid out a plan, and before tonight she would have easily talked herself out of something so blatantly irresponsible. She hadn’t lived safe all these years revealing herself around visiting ships, least of all to pirates, but even her carefully cultivated sense of self-preservation buckled under the desire to see him. And anyway; as long as she was careful not to be spotted, he’d be none the wiser.

Lifting herself onto the quay, Makino felt the transformation letting go, stretching her limbs a bit as she settled back into her human form, her warm pelt wrapped around her shoulders and drawn over her head like a hood. Her bare feet made no sound as she crossed the quay to the ship, but then she knew these planks, every board that creaked and sang, and nothing stirred as she approached the gangplank where it had been dropped.

She raised her eyes to the ship, and the quiet deck. The red lamps illuminated the rigging and the masts, and even clearly a pirate ship, it looked curiously welcoming.

There was no one on watch in the crow’s nest, but then they probably didn’t think it was necessary here. She'd told them as much, after all—that before today, there hadn’t been a pirate here since before Gold Roger’s time, and the only marine who visited was Garp, and that was only rarely. They were probably glad to have a quiet night without having to be on their guard. Although, Makino thought wryly, as she looked up the wide gangplank leading to the deck—given that she was about to steal aboard his ship, he probably should have posted a watch.

But she wasn’t there to harm them, or steal anything. She didn’t even know what she planned to do, knew only that she wanted to see him one last time before he left, and that this was her only chance.

She walked aboard silently, no more intrusive than the moon’s silver shadows, small pools of water trailing behind her from her dripping pelt. Even with the sea breeze sighing under the shrouds, it was a warm night, the first of a long, hot summer.

Their laughter grew louder as she neared the deckhouse, and she felt her heart where it beat faster in her chest, as though trying to match the rhythm. The portholes were fogged with condensation, but wiping it away, she peered through the rounded glass to the ship’s interior, careful not to make herself seen, knowing they couldn’t sense her.

The galley looked warm and inviting, although having met them, Makino hadn’t expected anything else. Several long tables spanned the whole compartment, along with a large, black iron stove where a fire roared cheerfully. No one seemed to have any plans of retiring to bed, their party having continued without a hitch, and there were tankards brimming on the tables between them. Thick foam spilled over the rims with their laughter, and soot-stained oil lamps lit the room generously, rings of light dancing off the dark wooden interior.

Her eyes found him easily, sitting in the middle of the galley, a natural seat for a man who commanded the room like a king, and yet with a humility she’d never witnessed from someone in his position, at once wholly assured of himself, but without the arrogance that usually followed men like that, who were used to being respected, or at least demanded to be. Shanks didn’t demand anything; he just was.

She’d never met anyone like him, or whose heart had a song like his.

He'd taken off his straw hat and his cloak, his shirtsleeves rolled up past his elbows, the way he'd looked sitting at her bar earlier, as though he'd been no less at ease there than he was among his men. She saw the pirates whose names she'd learned, seated around him—Ben Beckman and Yasopp, and Lucky Roo, who seemed to form his inner circle. Shanks’ expression was animated, and he looked like he was telling a story from how it held the whole room captive, before roaring laughter rose in answer to something he’d said, the sound so loud Makino heard it clearly through the timber. She couldn’t make out what they were saying, but she could sense them, the symphony of their desires filling the galley, a shameless pirate’s shanty of freedom and excess, both in enjoyment and ale.

She felt a pang of sudden longing, recalling them in her bar, the busiest night she could remember and yet she wanted a hundred more like it, as though now that she’d had a taste, she could never forget it.

Shanks threw his head back with a laugh then, and she felt how her heart responded to the sound, by leaping against her ribcage.

Her hands curled in her pelt, watching him. She would have liked to talk to him a little more; to have his attention on her a little longer, the way he'd offered it so effortlessly. He’d looked at her with such a complete attentiveness, there’d been nowhere for her to hide, but for the first time, Makino hadn’t wanted to be invisible.

Shanks lifted out of his seat then, a bottoms-up before he put his glass down, and she watched him make his way through the galley between the crowded tables, thinking at first that he was getting a refill, before her eyes widened, realising with sudden horror that he was headed straight for the door where she was hiding.

The whine of the hinges broke the stillness that lay over the docks, but she’d jumped in the water before he could open it fully, the noise from within spilling outside with the light, and the voices calling after him—“If you’re not back in half an hour, we’re coming to make sure you haven’t drowned!”

Shanks shut the door behind him, cutting off their laughter and leaving the ship awash in sudden silence. From the water, Makino watched as he drew a deep breath, his head tipped back, as though to the sea breeze, before he moved to cross the deck. Her eyes were just above the waterline, her seal-form hiding her where she floated, completely still.

It looked like he was walking off the ship, but he’d taken one step onto the gangplank when he stopped, his brow furrowing as something drew his eyes downwards, and she wondered what had caught his attention, before it hit her.

Her water tracks!

Shanks looked down at his feet, then towards the galley where she’d stood outside the porthole, and she berated herself for not even having considered that she’d been leaving a trail, dripping water all over the planks, and worse—that she should have known someone like him would have caught it.

She watched him look around the deck, his brow furrowed above his eyes, but he wouldn’t find her there, or in the water. She’d hidden her presence, and was no more discernible from the sea than its other shadows. She knew he was a proficient haki user; she’d sensed it at their first meeting, but then her observation wasn’t to be scoffed at. Garp had taught her himself; a means of protection, in case she ever needed to disappear.

She saw him look out over the water, but his eyes glanced right past her where she floated, one with the sea and the night, before he looked down at the tracks.

Makino was sure he would alert the crew when Shanks surprised her by continuing down the gangplank, apparently having decided the small oddity wasn’t a cause for alarm. But then he could probably handle himself against a lone intruder, although she noticed he wasn’t wearing his sword from before, still in just his shirtsleeves as he walked down with long, firm strides, and a captain's steady sea-legs used to shakier footing, the gangplank creaking softly under his feet. He wasn’t bothering to tread silently, but then it was far enough from the village that he wouldn’t disturb anyone.

He stepped onto the quay, and she wondered if he was going ashore when he turned left instead, towards the furthermost point of the jetty where it met the sea.

Curious in earnest now, she’d swum closer without realising, wondering what he was doing when he suddenly began to unbutton his shirt, and her eyes widened as he shrugged it off his shoulders, dropping it on the quay.

The moonlight spilled down his back, highlighting the defined muscles where his broad shoulders tapered to his hips, shifting under his skin as he reached to loosen the sash around his hips, not even breaking stride as it fell to the planks. Toeing off his sandals, he unzipped his pants, and she failed to stifle the startled sound that left her, and had to let the transformation go so she could clap her hands over her mouth.

She saw his hands pause on his hips, before Shanks looked over his shoulder, right in the direction of where she’d been. Hidden just off the side of the quay, back in her seal-form, Makino stayed utterly still.

Shaking his head, he turned back, dropping his pants, and her eyes rounded at the glimpse of a shapely buttocks, although she wasn’t given long to gape at it, as he took three long, running steps and dived into the water.

He cut through the surface smoothly, a clean dive that barely caused a splash, executed to perfection as he plunged through the water in a deep arc, before resurfacing with a breath. Shaking his hair, he pushed it back from his face, treading the water with his legs.

And he’d entered her domain, but Makino almost didn’t dare breathe, staying so still she didn’t even make a ripple in the water, and didn’t know if it was for fear that he’d see her, or that he would leave, if he thought he was being observed.

She watched him swim around, as though for the simple enjoyment of it, his arms raised to take a few broad strokes, before he turned over on his back, his head tipped back to look at the stars.

For a quiet beat, he simply lay there, and Makino hesitated, unsure of what to do. She was infringing on his privacy, spying on him like this, but then he was swimming out in the open where anyone could see him. And he didn’t seem particularly ashamed of his nakedness, and she couldn’t help her curiosity now where she swam closer, drawn by that strange pull.

He turned his head then, but she’d dipped under the surface before he could see her, diving beneath him where he floated on his back, and watched as he turned, as though looking for what had caused the disturbance. Even with her presence concealed, he seemed uncannily aware for a human.

She watched him treading the water, and peeking her head above the surface found him looking around warily, although he didn't seem afraid, only cautious.

Shame flooded her, recognising what she was doing. This was more than just boarding his ship without permission; she was trespassing on his person now.

She was about to leave when he turned and swam back towards the quay, and then she couldn't look away, watching the long, firm strokes where he cleaved through the water. He was an expert swimmer; she’d never seen a human move like that.

Lifting himself onto the quay, Shanks rose smoothly to his feet, shaking the water from his hair as he ran his fingers over his face and through his beard. Turned towards her now, she had a full frontal view, and her eyes rounded, wide where they drank in his body, painted in the moonlight.

It fell along the broad lines of his shoulders, and the captivating bulge of his upper arms, flexed as he raised his hand to push his hair back from his face. And she’d already gotten a decent eyeful of his chest earlier, but it was something else seeing him bared to his skin, nothing left to the imagination now, observing his powerful thighs and rippling abs, the shape of him enough to leave her wondering if he wasn’t entirely human after all.

But his skin was darkened by the sun, and the moon that was her mistress didn’t tempt out any fey secrets, revealing instead different things, drawing taut in silver light lean tendons and ripcord muscles, and bringing out pale scars amidst the dark hair sweeping up his chest and over his pectorals. And even breathtaking, there was something about him that defied the otherworldly, a rugged hardiness hewn from different matter, from flesh and bone and muscle, that hid no magic but that was instead undeniably and unapologetically _human_.

The dark hair covering his chest continued down over his flat stomach, a thick trail plunging between the defined muscles below his hips, right towards where his manhood stood front and centre, the sheer size of which had her eyes rounding almost comically.

It was her first time seeing one, and Makino could only stare, utterly transfixed.

His nightly dip over with, she thought he was about to collect his clothes and walk back onto the ship when Shanks suddenly turned his head right towards the water where she was hiding.

“I know you’re there.”

—

His voice sounded suddenly loud in the quiet, but then there were no other sounds, the utter stillness of the night unbroken but for the lap of the water against the hull, and the creaking of his ship.

When the dark failed to answer, “I think,” Shanks said, scanning the water, rippling from where he’d resurfaced, but he couldn’t see anything else hiding in it. It was so dark, even with the full moon he couldn’t see very far, and he sensed no other presences nearby.

His next words were spoken under his breath, “Or I’m just talking to myself. Buggy will be pleased to know I’ve finally lost it.”

No response from the water, and no presence revealed itself, which should have been confirmation enough, but he knew the feeling of being watched, and he’d seen the little wet footprints going up the gangway and across the deck to the galley. He knew there was something there, but couldn’t think of any creature who could hide their presence so completely as this.

He also realised that the wise thing to do in the face of such a being would have been to grab his clothes and walk aboard and hope it didn’t catch him before he reached the door, but as it often did, his curiosity won out over his common sense, and he never could leave well enough alone when there was a mystery to be solved.

And anyway, whatever trespasser had come aboard his ship, Shanks didn’t think it was hostile. If that had been the case, he’d given it plenty of opportunities even before he’d jumped in the water.

He tried a different approach. “I’m sorry if I scared you,” he said to the water, his voice pitched a little lower, conversational now rather than to get their attention. “I like to go skinny dipping when the weather’s nice, and I haven’t seen a night like this in ages. Thought I’d take advantage. I didn’t realise there was anyone out here.”

Still no answer, and the mirror surface surrendered nothing.

Well. He wasn’t known for backing down from a challenge.

Moving to take a seat on the edge of the quay, he felt the water where it submerged his legs. The tide was high, and it came up to his knees, a cool balm, but then it was a warm night, and even naked, he didn’t freeze.

He closed his eyes, his head lifted a bit, to whoever was watching. “If it will make you more comfortable,” he said, “I’ll keep my eyes shut. I won’t look. Promise.”

He wasn’t lying, and made sure they heard it. And even desperately curious to see what it was, he knew his chances were greater if they allowed him to see them, which required not a small amount of trust. But he was good at building that, and even the most stubborn souls he usually won over in the end.

The spell of silence had stretched long, and there’d been no sign there was anything there, and he’d almost accepted that he’d only been imagining things after all when he heard movement in the water ahead of him.

His first instinct had been to open his eyes, but Shanks kept them shut, and his heart was still as he waited.

“You can come closer,” he said. “I won’t open them.”

He heard as it swam closer, the water nudging gently against his legs, and it was odd—he still couldn’t get a read on its presence, like it was part of the water somehow, but he could hear it, although thought it was because it was allowing him to. And if it was, it meant it could understand him, which either suggested a sea king or a similar creature, and an intelligent one, if it could understand human speech.

It wasn’t human. Somehow, even with his eyes shut and its presence hidden, Shanks was certain of that.

Keeping his eyes closed, he treaded the water with his legs. His clothes lay scattered behind him, but he didn’t bother covering himself. If they’d been watching him earlier, they’d already gotten an eyeful.

He knew it was close now, and waited a beat, before he said, “Just to let you know, I can keep a conversation going by myself. You don’t have to talk unless you want to. But if you do, I’m all ears. If you don’t know human speech, that’s okay. I’ll understand you.”

He felt the spark of curiosity—like the tiniest ripple, before they’d concealed their presence again, but he’d caught it, and knew his grin showed it. And he almost feared his eagerness had ruined his careful approach when he suddenly heard it, from within.

_How?_

The query was so gentle, it might have been the lap of the water against the quay, but he heard it, and couldn’t have tempered his grin now if he’d tried.

“Just something I’ve always been able to do,” Shanks said. “I hear the voice of things.”

A soft beat followed, and then, curious, _Things?_

Smiling, "It’s hard to explain, but it’s like a sense of the world," he said. "I can understand you, even if you’re not speaking out loud.”

The creature was quiet, as though mulling over the words, but Shanks knew he had its attention now.

He considered its voice in his mind, like the sigh of the surf over a soft beach. And all voices were different, but some shared similarities—he could always distinguish the voices of living things and inanimate ones, and groups of animals had their own unique languages.

This was no animal, and no sea king, but he had no idea what to call it. In all his years on the sea, he’d never encountered a voice like this.

_What do I sound like?_

He smiled, and wondered how to explain it. It wasn’t like hearing a human voice, wasn’t sounds and syllables, but impressions. He thought of a safe harbour, and the sea after a storm had settled. It was gently rolling pastures, and a sky that hid nothing; was a perfect day for setting sail, and a glass of his favourite whiskey, knowing he was in no hurry to go anywhere. And it stirred something in his chest, a feeling he couldn’t name, at least not in any human language. The promise of rest, and relief; of closing your eyes with the knowledge that you could, and of feeling like you were exactly where you should be, the way he’d only felt twice in his whole life, first aboard his captain’s ship, and then his own.

But there was no word that could encompass all of it, and so he settled for the closest thing.

“Peace,” Shanks said, quietly. And it was a paltry translation, but he had nothing else to offer that came close.

It didn’t answer, but wanting to hear it again, “I don’t suppose you’ll tell me your name?” he tried, and had to clear his voice when it came out sounding rough.

No answer, but then he’d been reaching with that request, and tried a less intrusive approach. “You’re not human.”

There was a pause that almost made him wonder, before it said gently, _No._

“What are you?”

It didn’t answer, and he had the sudden thought that it might be rude to ask that, but he didn’t know of any other way to go about it when he couldn't sense or see it.

Then with a feeling he couldn't name, _I’m not sure what my kind are called._

Shanks considered this piece of information, but then that wasn’t so strange. Not all creatures had names for themselves. Sea kings didn’t exactly call themselves that; it was the name humans had given them. It might be the same with this one.

“What do you look like?” he asked it, his tone calm, curious but not invasive. “Maybe I’ve heard of your kind.”

Only the water answered, worrying the wooden supports of the quay where he sat. And he might have been alone if not for the voice, that curiously gentle thing that made him instinctively want to relax.

He had enough sense to wonder if this was its power, lulling its victims into a sense of safety before it struck, but even trying to muster a little healthy discretion, he came up short.

 _I have two shapes,_ it said then, and his smile lifted.

“A shapeshifter?”

It explained a lot, and he was already rooting through his mind for the stories he knew, of mermaids and sirens, and his mother’s songs of the seal-folk. “There are legends where I’m from about shapeshifters,” he said. “We call them sea-maidens.”

It was a wild shot in the dark, but it was the only thing that could explain how it didn’t feel human, and yet.

 _Yes,_ she said, after a beat. _It’s a broad term, but…it sounds right._

Helplessly intrigued, Shanks tried to picture what she looked like, and wondered what shape she wore. There were many different myths surrounding the elusive maidens of the sea, and she might not belong to the stories of his childhood, but no matter their shape, that they were beautiful was something they all agreed on.

And spurred by an impulse he couldn’t resist, “They say they're fiercely beautiful," he said.

He knew he’d caught her off guard, her voice yielding the impression of a flustered reaction, and grinned, delighted by this almost human trait.

He kept himself from prodding at her presence, to see if he could root it out if he tried. He didn’t want to scare her off now that he’d gotten her talking. If she wanted to hide, Shanks wouldn’t force her to reveal herself any more than he would have opened his eyes.

“You were aboard my ship earlier,” he said instead. “It was you who'd left the footprints.”

She didn’t answer right away, but then with the impression of what almost felt like shame, _I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to trespass._

“Hey, no need to apologise," he said with a chuckle. "I’m the idiot who didn’t post a watch.”

He thought of the little footprints leading to the galley, and before he could wonder if it was too intrusive, “Were you looking for something?” Shanks asked.

A different captain might have been wary of someone sneaking aboard in the dark, but Shanks didn’t think she’d meant any harm. She only seemed curious, and that wasn’t a crime on this sea, at least as far as he was concerned.

Her answer confirmed it. _I just wanted to see._

Shanks smiled. “Never seen a pirate ship before?” Although he could already guess the answer, if she belonged to this island, recalling the adorable barmaid from before.

The thought of her distracted him momentarily, before the voice said gently, _Never._

His reply came a little too quick. “I could show you, if you want.”

He regretted saying it the second it left his mouth, realising that he wasn’t doing a very good job building her trust by being way too eager, but before she could decide against giving him the time of day and disappear, he added, “Or we could just stay here and talk, if you prefer.”

She didn’t reply, and he wondered if he’d bungled the whole thing and lost her, but then, _I’d like that._

He smiled, knowing she could probably see it. “I’m Shanks, by the way,” he said. Then, “Wait, shit. You’re not supposed to give your name to the fae.”

The slight ripple almost felt like startled laughter.

 _It’s okay,_ she said. Her voice was warm; the impression of sunlight through blown glass. _I won’t do anything nefarious with it._

“No?” And because he couldn’t help himself, “Not even a little nefarious?”

That little flustered ripple again, and he probably shouldn’t be so delighted, but he couldn’t help it.

“I won't mind if you keep it,” he told her then, although his next words ended up sounding more tender than suggestive, “Take good care of it, though.”

A soft beat, holding the gentle lap of the water, and then, _Shanks,_ she said.

He didn’t know why he felt suddenly short of breath, if it was the way she’d spoken it, or the impression that accompanied it, as though she’d let slip how it made her feel, and he had no idea what to make of that gentle admiration.

And oh, he wanted to open his eyes, but he kept them shut, and tried to steer the conversation towards something a little safer, although didn’t succeed, as the first thing that popped into his mind was to ask her, “So did you see anything interesting?”

A little pause, before she spoke, and her voice gave the impression of a surprisingly demure cheek, _Yes._

He had the impish urge to ask if it was him, although thought he already knew the answer, and wondered if his grin gave him away. But he’d felt her watching him, although wasn’t sure he should be feeling so stupidly gratified, given what the legends said of the sea-folk.

He was also aware that he was flirting with her, but to be fair, he’d made riskier gambles in his life, and he was curious to see what would come of this. She could have drowned him by now, but he felt no threat from her, only that gentle curiosity.

He wondered how many humans she’d met. Her kind were said to avoid human settlements, and with good reason. Many of the legends included what usually happened to those who were caught, tangled in fishermen’s nets, or trapped by hunters, slaughtered for their pelts or raped and bound to human husbands. Their magic was often bound to something, a trinket, or for the seal-folk, their pelts. Whoever possessed it also possessed them, or at least according to the stories.

She would have been wise to avoid humans, even this quiet little village, and he wondered then if he was the first she’d ever spoken to. If she could understand human speech but not speak it, it was possible.

“If there’s anything you’d like to know about my kind, you can ask,” he told her, although didn’t specify if he meant humans or pirates, but figured he’d leave that up to her. “I’ve seen a fair bit of the world. I don’t know if any of it would be interesting to you, but I’ve been around.”

He thought he’d hit the mark, but then he’d figured her reason for seeking out his ship was because she was curious about humans. And he’d expected her to ask about any number of subjects, which he would have done his best to answer, but no matter what he might have imagined she'd ask him, Shanks wasn't prepared for what it turned out to be.

Her voice was as gentle as the water, although it held something he didn’t understand, before she said, shyly, _A kiss_.

His startled grin was beyond his control. “A kiss?”

This time she sounded unsure. _Is that okay?_

Shanks chuckled, surprised and undeniably delighted. “I’d never turn down such a polite request.” And in case she hadn’t read approval out of that, realising she might not be familiar with all the nuances of human speech and expression, “And by that I mean _yes_ , that’s more than okay. Lay one on me.”

For a long beat, there was no movement in the water, which gave him time to think about what he’d just agreed to. And this could go one of two ways, knowing well what usually followed a kiss from one of her kind, and a wiser man might have erred on the side of caution, but he hadn’t gotten to where he was by being cautious, and even knowing he should probably deny her, for the sake of his own skin, he was way too curious. And he’d never heard of sirens who asked _politely._

And if it turned out that she was going to drown him, he would find a way out. Probably.

The water rippled gently, and Shanks held his breath. She moved so softly, it barely stirred the surface, but then she was suddenly in front of him. And he still couldn’t sense her, but he could _feel_ her, her hands braced on the edge of the quay between his knees, and the brush of bare skin against his legs as a small figure lifted itself up and out of the water.

One small hand curled gently around the back of his neck, tilting his head down as soft lips touched his, a kiss so gentle it stole the breath he’d been holding, the chaste brush of her mouth leaving him feeling like he’d been run through.

Before she could draw back, he was reaching for her, surprised when his fingers touched something thick and silky, until he realised it had to be her pelt, but the lips pressed so softly to his were distinctly human, like the cold little nose, and the small breasts that brushed his chest when he pulled her close. His hand gripped the back of her head, the other reaching around her to lift her up, and she gasped against his mouth, but didn’t pull away as his tongue parted her lips to deepen the kiss.

If she wanted to know what it felt like, Shanks wouldn’t leave her disappointed.

He felt as she melted, a soft little sound leaving her that wasn’t in his mind, but a faint moan muffled against his lips. Her hands were so small, curled around his neck, his arms around her where he held her up. She was tiny, slender-limbed with gentle, feminine curves, and the softest mouth where she’d parted her lips shyly under his.

He didn’t open his eyes. He had promised her, even if it took every ounce of self-control he possessed to keep them closed, feeling her against him and wondering if she looked as lovely as she felt. Her back arched under his fingers, his hand wrapped around an impossibly tiny waist, before they brushed the soft curve of a small breast and she made a sound that would have had him going hard on the spot if he wasn’t already.

He felt his cock pressing against her stomach, and wondered suddenly if she might be curious about more than just kissing.

The door to the galley opening shattered the quiet, and she broke the kiss with a startled breath, but before she could pull away, “ _Wait_ ,” Shanks said roughly. His forehead touched hers, but he didn’t hold her in place, his hand cradled loosely around the back of her head where her soft pelt covered it.

He wouldn’t open his eyes. If he did, he knew he’d never get another chance. Sea-folk held promises in high regard, and you didn’t break them lightly. If he ever wanted to see her again, he had to keep his eyes shut. “Will you at least tell me your name?”

“Boss?”

He felt her head moving, drawn towards the sound, before a small hand brushed his chest gently over his heart, the other still curled around the back of his neck, and had he been in possession of his wits he might have worried she was going to rip it out.

But then she tipped her head up, her mouth brushing his softly, a parting kiss before she disappeared, and his eyes sprang open, but it was too late. She was gone, dropped from his arms and through the dark surface so fast he was left holding air.

Yasopp’s voice called from the deck again, and he heard as the rest of his crew emerged, drawn by the sound, “Hey, Boss, what the hell are you doing?”

The water before him was still, only the barest ripple left where she’d disappeared through the black mirror, but Shanks was glad it was there, or he might have questioned if he’d imagined the whole encounter.

And he hadn’t caught a single glimpse, but he’d felt her. She hadn’t turned to water under his fingers, as some myths claimed. She'd been real; warm and living, with a beating heart. He’d felt it, the quick rabbit’s pace, and her soft breaths.

The touch of her lips lingered, like the press of her body against his. Looking down at himself, and his cheerful erection where his cock stood at attention, he breathed a laugh.

“Well,” he said to the dark, wondering if she was still watching, and hoped she was, and that she could see his grin for all it held.

“That’s a first.”

—

Back in the galley, his crew didn't share his excitement.

“Boss,” said a voice, and in a tone Shanks couldn't decide was patient or disbelieving. “You’re not supposed to kiss girls who come out of the sea. There’s like a hundred songs about why that’s a _bad_ idea.”

They were all looking at him, having just finished relaying the night's events. “In her defence, she was really polite about it,” Shanks said. “She asked and everything.”

Disbelieving mutters from around the compartment, and, “What?” he asked, cheerfully unwilling to let his high spirits be dampened by their reactions. “Consent is important.”

“And if she’d politely asked if she could drown you, would you have accepted?”

He stuck his tongue out, although couldn’t stop smiling. “Why are you all losing your heads over this? Last I checked, I was still alive.”

“Not really something you should say with that much confidence,” someone reminded him, to much agreement. “What if she’d dragged you under?”

He took in their faces, their expressions betraying varying degrees of disbelief and concern, although Shanks wasn’t sure if it was because they found the story hard to believe, or that he’d wilfully courted a watery funeral because he couldn’t keep it in his pants, although to be fair, he hadn’t been wearing pants at the time.

His hair was still drying from his swim, and despite the late hour, he felt invigorated, although suspected it wasn’t so much from his dip in the sea as it was from the kiss.

He couldn’t stop thinking about her.

“Are you sure you didn’t imagine her?” someone else asked. “How much have you had to drink?"

"We all thought you were sober," another said. "You barely touched your glass while we were at the bar.”

“I'm not drunk,” Shanks said, before adding, this time with an edge, “And I didn’t imagine her.” Although as he said it, he wondered who he was really trying to convince.

“Did you see her, Yasopp?”

“Yeah, you’ve been weirdly quiet.”

All eyes turned to Yasopp where he sat, back against the table and his arms crossed over his chest. He looked like he’d been thinking, but they were right; he’d had surprisingly little to say.

Shanks thought he’d claim he hadn’t seen anything, but then, “I don’t know what I saw, but I saw something,” Yasopp said. “Thought it looked like a small seal.”

Murmurs of surprise erupted throughout the compartment. Shanks had the petulant urge to take offence to the fact that they were quicker to accept his word over their captain's, but then few things escaped Yasopp’s eyes.

And it was also confirmation for himself, as he still couldn’t help the flicker of doubt, that he really had imagined her.

“So…you kissed a seal?”

“Idiot, she’s clearly a shapeshifter.” Then, “Right?”

“ _Shapeshifter?_ I don’t know, man, I find that harder to believe than Boss kissing a seal.”

“Better than believing he’d readily kiss a siren, even if she asked first.”

Now Shanks was about to take offence to all of the above, when, “You’ve all seen weirder things,” Ben of all people spoke up, surprising not only Shanks, but the whole galley. “Why is this so hard to believe?” But just as Shanks was about to thank him for his unexpected support for _once_ , his first mate added, “And this isn't the stupidest thing he's ever done. It's not even in the top five.”

At his look of betrayal, Ben just raised a brow. “Do you need me to get the ledger?”

They all seemed to think about this, before they responded as one with nods and murmurs of agreement, admitting that Ben did have a point, especially regarding that last bit, which was followed by loud if good-natured laughter that Shanks answered with a cheerful middle finger.

Of course, even believing she'd been real didn’t make his actions any less reckless, so their criticism was partially deserved.

Ben’s look agreed, but too happy to care, Shanks ignored it.

“So what kind of creature was she?” Lucky asked.

Shanks felt their interest now, as their heads turned towards him, but then there were few things that could get a pirate’s attention like the promise of an unsolved mystery.

“I have an idea,” Shanks said, remembering her pelt, and Yasopp had confirmed his initial suspicion. And he’d never heard of selkies in this part of the world, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t exist here. “But I can’t be one hundred percent sure. I didn’t get a look at her.”

“Wait,” Yasopp said, holding up a hand. “You had your tongue down her throat, but you didn’t _see_ her?”

“I kept my eyes closed,” Shanks said, and at their wide-eyed looks, “What? I promised her.”

Several sighs were heard, although he caught the corner of Ben’s mouth fleeting up around his cigarette. “You’re lucky to be alive,” he said, to Shanks' look of innocence.

“I’ve had closer encounters with death,” Shanks parried, grinning. “And this was by far the best one.”

Their laughter stirred the air, half-believing, although somehow also entirely unsurprised. “Jesus, Boss.”

“Next time you’re going to come back without your tongue.”

“Or missing a limb.”

“Pray she doesn’t take your cock!”

Roaring laughter this time. Shanks only lifted his drink to his lips, remembering her soft mouth, and kept himself from saying that if she’d asked for the last one, he would have gladly given it to her.

“Wonder if there are more of her kind around here,” someone spoke up, to whispers of intrigue now, presented with the prospect of more beautiful maidens who might ask a sailor for a kiss.

Smiling, Shanks glanced towards the portholes, in the direction of the village. He could ask Makino if she knew anything. The locals of a place were usually the best source for its legends and hearsay, and if there’d been any sightings of a tiny seal or a colony near these shores, they would know.

Thinking about her, he felt the responding flutter in his stomach. He’d actually hoped there might be something there. She’d been painfully lovely, and he’d spent the whole evening wondering how he could steer the conversation towards something that would make her want to invite him to her room, and had very nearly asked her back to the ship, before he’d decided against it. Because even beautiful to the point of distraction, she’d also been young, and so very clearly a virgin, and he wasn’t a cad who’d breeze in and ravish a maiden and then leave her heartbroken after. And the way she’d looked at him…

He felt a curl of regret, the kiss momentarily forgotten, picturing her face where it had bared all her feelings. Any other time he would have responded eagerly to a look like that, but she’d been different, funny and gentle, with that soft laugh. He hadn’t wanted to leave her with a terrible impression of him; had wanted that gentle marvel in her eyes, as though she’d never met anyone like him.

He felt suddenly torn. On the one hand, a beautiful barmaid who’d made him laugh so much he’d forgotten his drink, and on the other, a mythical sea-maiden who’d kissed him so gently he hadn’t even spared a thought to the danger.

The din wrapped around him as Shanks touched his fingers to his mouth, thumb brushing the scar that bisected his lip, remembering hers.

He’d never been kissed like that, first so shyly, and then so earnestly, as though she’d only get the one chance, even as he would have gladly offered her another, had she asked.

He considered the sensation where it gripped him, familiar now after a life spent following the whims of the sea. He’d thought there’d been something about this place, coming ashore, and still didn’t know exactly what it was about it, the innocent fishing village on the lip of the shore, so far out of the way it was like the world had forgotten it existed.

He’d thought the wise thing would be to leave, before he did something stupid, like let the wide brown eyes behind the local bar make him forget where he was going for a spell, although he didn’t know if it was any safer to let himself be seduced by a pair of soft lips and small hands that might as easily have pulled him under and drowned him. He’d practically offered himself to her on a plate.

He also knew better than to dabble in that world; the one below. That there was a reason they were separate, and that their kinds didn’t interact. In addition to being hunted by humans, there were hundreds of cautionary tales about the sea-folk and their powers, which could lure even the most experienced sailor overboard if he wasn’t careful. Because they knew the hearts of men and what they desired, and could use it against them.

Shanks wondered what she’d found in his heart.

But he thought then of her gentle request, and that unbearably soft kiss. As though she’d only been curious to know what it felt like.

“What,” Ben said, although with the wary tone that suggested he knew exactly what he was going to say.

Shanks smiled. “I’ve decided.”

He was looking out the porthole, but the moon didn’t surrender any of its secrets, least of all the small shape that had slipped beneath the surface, to wherever her kind lived in these waters, and only a fool would willingly court that danger, if only to ask her for another kiss.

And then there was Makino, and the brown eyes he couldn’t forget. It was hard to say which was the stronger pull, but he felt it, and didn’t stop to question it or what it was pulling him towards. And anyway; he would only find out by following it.

“We’re staying.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I've written many iterations of Shanks falling ass over teakettle for Makino in this series, this is the first where he does it twice in the same chapter.
> 
> Poor Makino is going to have to become a real good liar, real fast.


	2. Sealskin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's become a tradition for me to round off the year with a big update, and this year it's this fic! Even though 2020 has been A Year, one thing that keeps being good and kind to me are you guys. If you've left a kind comment on one of my stories this year, or sent me a nice message, please know that you've made a difference, which is not a small thing, even if it might feel like it.
> 
> I know a story can't do much, but I hope it can be a brief escape, or just something to take your mind off things for a bit. Wherever you are in the world, I hope you are safe and healthy, and that 2021 has good things in store for you.
> 
> Happy New Year!

There are rules regarding their kind, ingrained early and repeated often. It’s the song a fresh-faced swabbie learns on his first voyage, and the one sung with an old captain's dying breath on her last, and even pirates living outside the laws of mortals know to follow these:

Don't seek their kind. You’ll only be courting regret if you do.

Don’t accept their invitations. Their hearths are cold and wet, and their drink will never quench your thirst. Saltwater never does.

Don’t sire children with them. They won’t be human, no matter how deceptive their appearance.

But most importantly: whatever you do, don’t let them steal your heart. Their kind cannot love; the sea never taught them how.

All sailors have desires, there’s no escaping that, but you can escape their kind if you’re clever. If not, it's a cold kiss and down to Davy Jones with you, down, 

down,

 _down_.

―

The next morning, he beat the sun by a good ten minutes, up so perversely early, had he actually had the foresight to post a watch, Shanks thought they would have done a double-take upon seeing him coming out on deck, the first of his crew to rise.

The gangway whined as he walked down, the only sound save the creaking of the ship's timbers. Her footprints were gone, and there was no more evidence of her in the water, the still surface perfectly clear under the dawning sky, hiding no secrets.

It seemed like a different world altogether, the contrast so sharp, Shanks spared a passing thought to whether he’d accidentally crossed over the night before; that in breaching the surface after diving in, he’d entered another realm, or a liminal space. They were said to exist in crossings, in doorways and under bridges and where roads forked; in clearings in the woods and staircases, and the first minute after the stroke of midnight.

The place where the sea met the shore was one such threshold, like the wooden quay where it connected the island with the water. It had been a full moon yesterday, which was said to blur the line of reason and reality, and he’d seen enough of the world, and enough things he couldn’t explain, that he wasn’t beyond believing such things were possible.

But if such a crossing existed, it wasn’t the same threshold he crossed now, stepping off the quay and onto solid ground. A footpath climbed up from the docks, snaking through the village towards the green pastures and the windmills he could spot beyond the fishing cottages, quiet sentinels along the hard-packed road where it led to the forest in the distance. The village was yet to rise, and nothing stirred in the air or the water. A thin cover of mist lay over the harbour, and everything was limned with gold, not a shadow for the moon’s creatures to hide.

Shanks couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a morning so gentle, and that demanded so little. Even the seagulls were quiet, grooming on the rooftops of the cottages. Party’s windows had been thrown wide open, and a tendril of smoke curled from the chimney into the blushing sky.

He paused, considering the bar up ahead, a sturdy structure in white-painted brick and dark wooden rafters, with a wide porch and slanting roof. It sat a little crookedly, an old house that had weathered years by the seaside, and even a sea as gentle as this left its marks, but it was obviously cared for, and there was no flaking paint or signs of neglect, although having met its proprietor, he wasn’t surprised.

Indecision held him for a beat, his eyes on the porch and the bat-wing doors, before he turned left, off the main path and away from the village proper as he picked his way down to the water. He’d had a purpose in getting up so early, although he’d nearly forgotten, faced with the prospect of an hour alone with her before her bar filled up.

The water was so clear it beggared belief, and he watched the creatures scuttling under the smooth stones as he walked, submerged to his ankles. It was getting warmer, and it wouldn’t even be an hour before it would be too warm for his cloak. He’d left Gryphon on the ship; Shanks doubted he’d be needing it, even if he wasn’t sure exactly what he was hoping to find.

He hadn’t walked far when he stopped, taking a seat on one of the rocky reefs. He still had a clear view of his ship, and the nearest cottages. Fishing nets were strung up under the rafters, heavy with the glass floats they used in this part of the world, and he watched as the first glimpse of the sunrise caught in the spun glass, dappling the cottages in blue and green.

Sitting there, it was easy to see the appeal of this kind of peace, which seemed removed from the rest of the world.

Party’s rose taller than the surrounding houses, built at the very heart of the port. Shanks wondered for a second what she was doing, before turning his eyes to the water, but the surface surrendered nothing, and the sense that he was being observed was absent, which was the strongest confirmation that she wasn’t there, although he didn’t know why he’d expected her to be. This wasn’t her hour; hell, it wasn’t even his, but he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the kiss.

But it wasn’t like he thought he’d come across a colony out in the open, and so close to the village. If there was one, it would be hidden, and somewhere that would be hard to reach.

His eyes followed the shoreline where it continued away from the village, interrupted by a gentle cliffside that wasn’t particularly daunting, but it would require going further inland if he wanted to continue walking along the water. His maps said Goa Port lay in that direction, but it was a lot of shoreline to cover to reach it, and from how far out of the way Fuschia lay, it wasn’t likely there were any well-trod paths beyond the main road through the island. It would mean a trek through the forest along the cliffs, which could be treacherous for those who didn’t know the area, and he was a capable seaman and explorer, and knew better than to be fooled by an island’s deceptive appearance. There might be steeper cliffs around the bend, and stronger currents, and going by ship wasn’t guaranteed to be any easier.

It also felt wrong to look for her when she might want to stay hidden. There was a reason her kind avoided his, and some stories said you had to be invited to find faerie dwellings, and most agreed that accepting anything from her kind was a bad idea, although he’d already disregarded that warning, and cheerfully, remembering the kiss.

Part of him had hoped she would be the one to seek him out, but the water surrendered nothing, as clear and open as the sky, entirely without secrets. The faint outline of the moon was visible, having retreated as the sun rose over the sea. A gentler presence in the sky’s periphery, she didn’t demand the same attention as her bolder lover, but could shine just as brightly if given the chance.

“Captain?”

He’d sensed her coming even before the gentle address reached him, coloured with that soft delight. And it wasn’t who he’d been waiting for, but he found his smile lifting like it had been, as he turned his head to find Makino behind the fence at the top of the rise.

Shanks watched as she climbed across it, the full skirt of her dress lifted as she nimbly hoisted herself over the fence with a grace that held his attention momentarily captive, before she made her way down to where he was sitting by the water. “I thought you would have left by now.”

Her voice was as gentle as he remembered, and her reaction to finding him there was pleased, although not as surprised as he might have expected, but then she’d probably been up a while already, and would have seen his ship had yet to raise anchor.

She was dressed in the same colours as the morning, a honey-yellow bodice laced snugly over a white cotton blouse with wide sleeves that tied at her elbows, and a blue skirt that recalled the deepening sky. It cut off at her shins, and climbing the fence had revealed a glimpse of a delicate underdress. She wore dainty leather boots, worn but cared-for, and a crisp white apron cinched a distractingly small waist, embroidered with blue flowers. Her short hair had been tucked behind her ears, and wrapped with a sheer kerchief. It bared her slender neck, and the freckles there.

She was so beautiful it momentarily kept him from coming up with anything clever to say.

Clearing his throat, “Changed my mind,” Shanks said, and hoped his grin salvaged the attempt at sounding like it really had just been on a whim that he’d stayed. “Thought we’d stick around for a bit. See what this place has to offer.”

Her mouth pursed with a smile that made him wonder if she’d seen right through him, although didn’t know why he felt recklessly inclined to let her. “Was it the melons that did it?” Makino asked, with a hint of gentle teasing that was nothing like his, which had no shame.

His grin widened; a testament to that fact. “You made such a good case for them, how could I resist?”

The blush tinting her cheeks suggested she knew he was talking about something else entirely. And he hadn’t been lying; even with the kiss still fresh in mind, he couldn’t say it was his sole reason for staying, the other being her, although he felt curiously reluctant to tell her about the first.

“Well then I hope you won’t be disappointed,” Makino said.

Shanks grinned, and was looking at her when he said, “I highly doubt it.”

Christ, that smile took absolutely no prisoners, and the startled quality of it so intensely gratifying, he found himself looking for ways to keep it.

“You’re up early,” Makino said then, in an adorable attempt at redirecting the conversation, although his grin didn’t let her off the hook that easily.

“Don’t know what came over me,” Shanks said. He still hadn’t taken his eyes off her. “Must be something in the air.” The soft colours of the morning brought out her complexion, moon-white and spotted with her soft freckles. He’d thought her hair was black, but saw now a tinge of green, like sea glass where the sunlight coaxed it out.

Her eyes lowered demurely, although she couldn’t hide her smile. And she really had the most delightful reactions to his flirting, no pretence for the sake of it, or feigned indifference, just that utter sincerity that had captivated him so much the night before, but that was no less endearing in the sober light of day.

His gaze dragged from the delicate horizon of her collarbones to the one in the distance, blurred by the thinning mist, leaving everything looking new and untouched. Not the same realm he’d found under the stars, but there was still something about it that he couldn’t put his finger on.

“It’s beautiful here,” he said, although held his tongue from adding that she was the lovelier sight. He had _some_ self-control.

Makino’s reaction bore the gentle pride of a local, as she told him, “I’ve heard some describe the sunset as the most stunning they’ve ever seen." An odd little smile touched her soft mouth. “I wouldn’t know, as I don’t have anything to compare it to. I’ve never left.”

He swallowed his immediate response, which had been to say he’d love to show her. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d used that one on a girl, and he felt suddenly loath to do it now, although wasn't sure why.

“Take it from someone who’s been around,” Shanks said instead, and this wasn’t a line, or an exaggeration, as he told her, “It’s unique.”

She liked that, although he didn’t know what to make of the soft blush that coloured her cheeks now, or what he’d said that should have prompted it. “You must have seen quite a bit,” Makino said. “I remember you saying you’d been a pirate since you were young.”

Shanks smiled, pleased that she remembered, although he’d omitted just how young. “I have, but there’s still a lot of the world I haven’t seen, and places I’d like to revisit now that I’ve got my own crew.”

“Anywhere in particular?”

Tempted by that gentle curiosity, he considered telling her about Sky Island, although wondered if she’d believe him. She was a bit of an enigma that way, so primly reasonable in some aspects, and yet with a penchant for fancy that made her entirely liable to buy even his most outrageous stories.

Deciding to go with something a little more believable, although still toeing the line, given how far removed this place was, “The Grand Line,” he said, and saw her eyes rounding, making his smile widen. “And the other blues. I love discovering new places, but there are a few that are worth returning to.”

Her hands laced at the front of her apron. She looked suddenly indecisive, like she wanted to say something, and Shanks almost thought she’d decided against it when Makino asked him gently, “Do you have a family?”

He saw the second she realised what that implied, when she suddenly averted her eyes, and promptly missed his grin.

He allowed it to soften. “My crew,” he said, and saw her look up, and he didn’t know why it felt necessary to add it, but, “There’s no one waiting for me.” And even more surprising, “I don’t think I’d mind, though,” he said, before he could even reflect on that, “if there was.”

The beat of silence that followed felt suddenly pronounced, as he wondered what the hell had just come out of his mouth.

He had no idea what he was even suggesting, saying that. He’d never used _that_ line on a girl, and he was many things, but he’d never considered himself dishonest. An incurable flirt, sure, but he’d never led a girl on by offering more than he could give, and least of all more than he wanted.

But he didn’t want to take the words back, although didn’t know what to make of that realisation any more than the words themselves.

He raised his eyes to the village behind her, needing to take them off her before he did something stupid. “My favourite places are the ones you won’t find on a map,” Shanks said, in an effort to steer the conversation back to waters he was comfortable navigating.

Makino tilted her head. “Like?”

The naked curiosity in her voice didn’t bother pretending it was anything else, and he wasn’t exactly unused to attention, but there was something about being at the centre of that gentle but unrestrained delight.

Smiling, “Places that are hard to reach,” Shanks said, and this had been true long before he’d thought they might hide more than a pretty vista. “Mountaintops, or ice caverns. The kind that require a little risk getting to, but once you’re there, it’s worth it.” He looked up at the island, wondering at the secrets it hid, and one in particular.

“There’s something about untouched nature,” he said, meeting her eyes, the brown of a good drink, and filled with the same warmth. If the hospitality of a place could be personified, she was this port's. “Can’t beat it.”

Something entered her expression, a flicker in her eyes that he wasn’t given the chance to parse but that had for a second looked like an idea kindling, but before he could ask, it was gone.

Her face was so open, but he wasn’t a mind reader, and swallowed the urge to ask what she was thinking before the words could leave him, realising he could come off a bit strong, but he had enough sense of restraint to hold back when needed. At least most of the time.

“So I’ve been thinking about last night,” he said instead, and saw her eyes widening, although didn’t know why, as he asked her, “Is that offer of breakfast on the house still open?”

Her smile looked relieved, and he was distracted from asking the reason by the way she shyly ducked her gaze. It did a funny thing to his stomach, as Makino nodded towards the bar. “Let's get some food in you, then.”

She began making her way back up the slope, and grinning, Shanks slid from the reef to follow.

He’d caught up with her at the fence, and didn’t know what compelled him to make a complete idiot of himself by launching over it when he could have climbed it like a normal person, but the startled laugh it earned him made it feel worth it, as Makino followed, although with more restrained grace, and a softer smile when he held his hand out to help her down.

She placed her hand in his, so tiny it wouldn't even have spanned the width of his palm with her fingers splayed, and so soft it dragged his eyes towards it, but before he could brush his thumb across her knuckles, Makino had jumped down and slipped it from his grip, tucking it against her apron with a nervous smile.

Undaunted by the gentle challenge, “So what brings you out so early?” Shanks asked, as they approached the bar. No one else was around, but then that was probably to his benefit, as the rest of the village didn’t trust him for shit. He’d briefly met the mayor yesterday, an unimpressed little man with an impressive scowl who hadn’t said a single word to him, but who’d still made his opinion of him clear. He’d spent the evening huddled in a corner of her bar, his arms crossed as he watched them all warily, although what he’d planned to do against a whole crew of pirates, Shanks didn't know, but admired the man's determination, but then he’d gathered they were protective of her here.

“I’m always up early,” Makino said, with a glance up at him where they walked shoulder to―well, top of her head. “I like to get a head start on the day, especially now that I'll have more customers.”

Anyone else might have made it sound long-suffering, or even teasingly accusing, given that his crew was the reason she'd be run off her feet, but Shanks thought she just sounded happy.

Walking up the porch, she smiled when Shanks held one of the doors open for her. She was so petite, the crown of her head barely reached the middle of his chest, and passing by him, the delicate sleeve of her blouse brushed against him, barely a touch, but it jolted through him like he'd been shot, and he had to stop himself from following the impulse that seized him, to reach for her hand and pull her back, wondering how she'd respond if he kissed her now. It was certainly an opportune moment―her bar would be empty for a while yet, and she lived upstairs. Or there was always the storeroom, and a quick tryst would see her back to work before anyone else arrived, none the wiser. Shanks had gotten frisky in more public spaces in the past.

But she hadn't, and the thought sobered him up before his mind could take that image any further, to the edge of a rattling shelf with her skirt rucked up her hips, and her voice hitching in his ears.

His pervy mental detour had thankfully gone unnoticed by the object of his fantasy, although Shanks tried to shift discreetly so that his cloak covered the most glaring evidence where it strained against his crotch, and waited until she was busy before he took it off, and his hat, and taking a seat at the bar, he watched Makino working, a cup of coffee poured for him before she excused herself, making for the kitchen as she left him sitting by the counter, a parting smile offered over her shoulder that had his stomach doing a weird little flip that had nothing to do with his still-raging erection.

Staring into his cup, he had to take a moment to wonder what he was even doing. If he kept this up, he really would end up pursuing something with her, and he still wasn’t convinced it was a good idea. She was so _young_ , for one, and endearingly innocent, which was something he usually avoided, and he really didn’t want to be the cause of something she’d regret.

He didn’t know why that mattered so much, knew only that he didn’t want to hurt her, which seemed an inevitable consequence if he allowed himself to forget that he would very likely be the first she ever took to bed. And that fact _really_ shouldn't be as tempting as it was, but she was so sincere in everything, it was impossible not to imagine how that might translate to a more intimate setting.

The coffee helped clear his head a bit, although not entirely of the image that had stuck with him from the previous night, her cheeks flushed and her hair in gentle disarray, and the way she'd looked at him, her eyes dark and compelling, as though waiting for him to do something, her mouth soft and kissable. He'd thought about her all the way back to the ship; there was a reason he’d gone for a dip in the sea to cool off.

That memory prompted another, and his burgeoning infatuation with Makino notwithstanding, there was another reason he’d decided to stick around. And he didn’t think that path involved any less risk, but at least where that maiden was concerned, Shanks was arguably the one in the most danger.

He felt it in his gut, the sense he sometimes had when faced with a choice, that the path taken would impact the course of his life somehow. And he didn't usually have this much trouble choosing, but this was the first time he'd had two conflicting gut-feelings pointing him in different directions, and wanting to go with them both.

He thought wryly of the ancient dilemma, but at least Odysseus only had to choose the lesser of two raging sea monsters―Shanks' Scylla and Charybdis were an impossible choice for an entirely different reason, although it wasn't necessarily any less perilous.

But like the fabled king, he would have to be careful how he navigated this, or it wouldn't just be his ship shattered on the rocks.

His gaze went towards the kitchen. And he'd already done more than he should, remembering her joy upon discovering he’d stayed, and her reactions to his flirting, and if he did nothing there was still the chance she'd be hurt, which meant he was fucked either way.

But it was better than sleeping with her and then breaking her heart. Maybe she wouldn't see it that way now, but she would one day, when she was married with children and looking back on her life, and the brief interlude he'd been.

Shanks downed the dregs of his coffee, and wished for a second that it held something stronger.

The safer choice, then. For her sake.

But they could be friends. He would just have to stop thinking about her that way, like how those dainty curves would feel under his hands, and how she'd sound, coming, or that he wanted to go into the kitchen and bend her over the nearest counter.

Easy.

Seeking a distraction before he did something reckless, like follow through on that last impulse, Shanks looked around the common room, empty now where it had been full the night before. Her bar really was something else, at least for someone used to dirtier taphouses, and many proprietors kept their establishments neat and orderly, but nothing like her.

The old building was in good condition, the glossy hardwood floors bearing the signs of decades of booted feet, the boards worn smooth in places but not a single dirty bootprint to be seen, and not a speck of dust or empty bottles or kegs cluttering the open common room. The wide brick hearth had been swept and cleaned since last night, and the tables looked ready for the day’s customers, and there was nothing unusual about it, no secrets hidden in dark corners, or any evidence to suggest this was anything but an ordinary bar, in an ordinary village.

Of course, Shanks knew better than most that just because he found no secrets didn’t mean there weren’t any.

When Makino emerged from the kitchen, a different hunger had asserted itself at the smell of her cooking, and, “So,” Shanks said, in what he hoped was a conversational tone, as she put a plate down before him, eggs sunny side up, the way he liked them, although he couldn’t remember telling her that. “Small places like this usually have some local legends.”

Brown eyes met his as she handed him his utensils, their fingers brushing as he reached to accept them, and felt the jolt racing up his arm as she asked, “Legends?”

“Folk tales,” Shanks said, as he thanked her for the food with a wink that saw a startled grin splitting her face. “Ghosts and ghouls, that sort of thing.”

Her grin softened as she reached for one of the glasses stacked on the counter. They looked recently washed, and must have been their leftovers from the other night. “No ghouls around here, at least as far as I’m aware,” Makino said, as she began to polish the glass, before lifting her eyes to his with a soft quip, “We have a resident crone, but I doubt she’ll appreciate the comparison.”

Shanks grinned. “Crone, huh? I bet she knows some stories.” Old wives’ tales weren’t called that without reason.

That got a laugh from her, and his smile lifted at the lovely sound. “Oh she does, although I don’t think it’s the kind you’re looking for."

That only made him more curious, but rather than pursue it, “What about you?” he asked.

She cocked her head, although didn’t cease her polishing. “Me?”

“You’re a barmaid,” Shanks said, gesturing with his fork to the common room. “And this is clearly the heart of this place. Tavern owners are collectors of stories and local hearsay. You must know everything that goes on here.”

He’d only been speaking the truth, although heard how it came out sounding, but her flustered smile made him forget that he wasn't supposed to be flirting with her.

“I do,” Makino said, although with a note of gentle challenge. “Which is why I can say with confidence that there are no ghouls. I wasn’t kidding when I said it’s mostly melons and windmills.”

“Not even a haunted melon?” Shanks tried. “Or a windmill that’s mysteriously changed places in the night?”

Her brown eyes glittered. “Are you disappointed yet?”

His grin answered for him, even as Shanks told her, “It takes a lot to disappoint me.” And before he could stop himself, “And I don’t think you could even if you tried.”

He'd expected her blush, although it wasn't any less delightful for it. If anything, it was all the more gratifying, knowing he could bring it out so easily.

He had to steer his thoughts away before he started thinking about other ways he could make her blush like that.

“Why the sudden interest in our local legends?” she asked him then, in a demure attempt at keeping her composure that promptly failed, but she didn’t let that stop her, a gentle stubbornness in her persistence that he’d immediately taken a liking to on their first meeting. “I thought pirates were after treasure, not fairy tales.”

“Depends entirely on the pirate,” Shanks countered smoothly. “I happen to love a good story. And you can learn a lot about a place from its folklore, even tiny ports like this. The place I’m from isn’t much bigger, and I know enough stories from those parts to fill an evening.”

She’d been putting the polished glass back on the shelf, but that caught her interest, and he watched as she turned towards him, wiping her hands on her apron. She had the loveliest hands, Shanks thought, tiny and elegant.

“What kind of stories?” Makino asked.

He smiled, knowing he had her. “Just your run-of-the-mill fireside tales," he said. "Changelings and water horses." Their eyes met. “Selkies.”

From the gentle furrow between her brows, she didn’t recognise the word. “Selkies?”

“Maighdeann-ròin,” Shanks said, and saw her eyes rounding at the unfamiliar language, before he explained, “Seal-maidens.”

Her wide eyes recalled the night before, when she’d soaked up everything he’d told her, but then he’d gathered she loved stories.

“Tell me about them,” Makino said, although it was far from a demand, but Shanks didn’t think it was any less compelling, watching the gentle hunger in her eyes as she reached for another glass to polish, although without the same focus she’d given the first one.

Holding her eyes, he began, his voice pitched a little lower, “Legend has it they're beautiful maidens who can take the form of a seal.”

Makino listened attentively. And he’d been told his whole life that he had a knack for storytelling, which had always been a point of pride, although he felt less concerned that she be impressed than he normally would, wanting instead to see her eyes rounding with delight.

“When they shed their sealskin, they look human, but they’ll have certain characteristics that betray their real nature,” Shanks continued. “Their hair might be green, like reeds, and they’ll have something of their seal-form in them.”

“Are they always maidens?”

She’d completely ceased what she was doing to listen, the glass idling in her small hands, and Shanks smiled. “Not always. In some stories, they’re male, seducing lonely fishermen’s wives waiting for their husbands.”

He pondered this a bit, before conceding, “Not the most subversive in terms of gender stereotypes, I guess. The man is the seducer, the maiden is the one being seduced.” Although recalling his own gentle seducer, he grinned, and said, “Personally, I think that's a load of crap.”

Her grin was startled, and he didn’t know what had prompted the gentle blush in her cheeks this time, but the sight did that strange thing to his stomach.

She made to pour him a drink then, and Shanks had the glib urge to point out the early hour, but held his tongue, watching as she lifted up on her toes to pluck a tumbler off the shelf, his eyes lingering on her small waist as she stretched, but he’d averted them by the time she turned back, reaching for the bottle of single malt whiskey, having already learned his preference, and he smiled as he accepted the drink.

This time when their fingers brushed, her hand darted back, although her flustered smile made him momentarily forget that he’d decided to leave it alone.

Shanks tried to remember what he'd been saying. “I’ve never cared for that aspect of the myth,” he continued, wrapping his fingers around the crystal tumbler as Makino leaned her hands on the counter. “Where the males are somehow the ones with the power over their human lovers, the maidens are portrayed as having no choice.”

“How so?”

He considered how to phrase it. “A key component of the myth is their sealskin," Shanks said. "It’s the source of their magic. There are a lot of songs about selkie wives, although they all have that in common.”

Had the setting been different―the hour later, and a drink or three in his system to make him forget why he shouldn't notice how beautiful she was―he might have sung her a few lines, wondering how she’d react, but shoved down the urge before it could take him, and said, “They’re very protective of it, but then with good reason.”

Meeting her eyes, he found them wide with intrigue, her presence open and her focus trained on him completely where she leaned on the bar, the counter separating them. And it was almost too easy to forget the sun pouring through the open windows, a sudden intimacy to the moment that took conscious effort to not let run away with him, and for his hand to release his drink and reach for her instead.

When he continued, his voice sounded a little rough, “You’ll hear of fishermen accidentally catching one in their nets, but others will seek them out. They’ll come across a group dancing under the full moon, and they’ll lay in wait, hoping to steal one of their pelts.”

“What happens if one does?” Makino asked, although from the level weight of her voice, she’d already made a guess. “Steal it.”

He hesitated. These were darker tales, and the songs had sinister undertones he hadn’t understood when he’d been a boy; when he’d naively believed they were happy, their husbands like the kings in different stories, who won a maiden’s affections through his deeds and character. It wasn’t until he’d seen the world with his own eyes that he’d learned there were those who didn’t seek to win affection, but to take it.

There were even those who bragged about it. The rape of a selkie was almost hailed as a conquest; a suitable prize for outwitting the fae. Possessing their pelt granted them allowance, and they weren’t human, as though that didn’t make it any less of a vile act, especially given what usually followed.

“They can’t change,” Shanks said. He recalled the song about the young wife who spent her days restlessly prowling the beach, the sea so close but out of reach and her belly heavy every year. “It binds them to their human forms, and to whoever holds their sealskin. They'll keep them as wives, and force them to bear them children.”

Her intrigue had given way to a different feeling, her soft mouth downturned at the corners. “Can't they do anything?” Her voice shivered a little over the words, as though imagining it, but then he’d learned she got easily immersed in stories, and the plights of others. He’d never met anyone so naturally empathic.

“Not if you believe the legends,” Shanks said. “Possessing their sealskin gives you power over them, although it doesn’t say how it compels them. But without their pelt, they’re effectively trapped in their human forms. The only way to escape is if they get it back, but their husband has usually hidden it somewhere. There’s a song about it, where she steals the key from his neck when he’s sleeping, but when she returns to her own kind, they shun her.”

A beat of silence passed. When Makino spoke, her voice sounded odd. “Sounds horrid.”

Shanks didn’t answer, his eyes on his drink and his thoughts elsewhere, recalling her wariness when she’d approached him by his ship, and wondered at that trust―for her to come so close, when he might have tried to take her.

He wanted to talk to her again, if only so he could assure her he had no plans of taking anything.

“The children’s stories are nicer,” he said then, with a wry smile. “The fisherman will let her go, and she’ll come back to her human family, usually during a full moon, or once every seven years. I don’t know what the moral of those stories is supposed to be, though. The implication still isn’t good, if you consider how those children were most likely conceived.”

“But they can have children?” Makino asked, which seemed an odd detail to latch onto, on the subject of marital rape. “With humans?”

He didn’t understand the feeling in her eyes now, but shrugged. “Probably? I don’t know anyone who’s tried, but there are enough stories about it to suggest that it’s happened. They won’t be human, but then that’s probably a given.”

Makino fiddled with the glass in her hands. For a moment, she looked lost in thought.

“Do you think any of them have ever chosen it?” she asked him then, lifting her eyes to his. “To have children, and live with humans.”

Shanks smiled. “I’m an optimist, so I’d like to believe that some of them did _choose_ ,” he said. “But I’ve also seen enough of the world to know that those songs are the way they are for a reason.”

“Maybe someone should write new songs,” Makino said, as she turned to put the glass back on the shelf, before reaching for another.

He grinned, and thought of her, with that gentle curiosity. _A kiss._ “Maybe you’re right,” he said, with a softer smile.

Their eyes met over the counter. And even if his thoughts had wandered elsewhere, they didn’t stay long, coaxed back to the present moment by her presence, which seemed to wrap around him in welcome, an air about her that invited him to relax his shoulders and forget where he was, and that there was anywhere he needed to be.

It also made it increasingly difficult to keep reminding himself that he was trying to strike up a platonic friendship, especially when she looked like that, with those dark, guileless eyes that left no doubt about what she wanted, and that it was him.

Her pulse had quickened, and he caught the soft hitch in her breath, parting her lips softly.

The storeroom was so close.

Scylla or Charybdis.

But if she was anyone in that story, it was someone else entirely, that gentle personification of patience and devotion, but Shanks was anything but a king, and wouldn't keep her waiting twenty years when she deserved better.

Makino made to speak then. "Captain―"

The sound of his approaching crew shattered the moment, but then he'd sensed them coming, although had privately hoped they would have taken another hour, even as it was probably for the best that they were interrupted, before he allowed himself to forget.

Turning his head found them all staring at him from the doorway.

“Boss,” Yasopp greeted, grinning, and with less surprise than the rest, who were all gaping at him.

“This is where you were!”

“Yeah, we didn’t know where you’d gone. You’re _never_ awake this early.”

“We were worried she’d come back to finish the job!”

The nervous laughter that followed the last remark told him they were only partly joking, but Shanks let it slide.

He also held his tongue from saying he’d been hoping she would, recalling the painful erection she’d left him with, but elected to keep it polite, given present company.

But of course it hadn’t missed her, and, “She?” Makino asked him mildly.

He briefly considered the different outcomes to sharing that particular story. On the one hand, she might be more liable to believe him than his crew, but on the other, he didn’t want to see her reaction to announcing that he’d welcomed the advances of an unknown creature who’d spied on him swimming, after having made a point not to pursue anything with her, even if it was for her own sake.

He settled for something vague and hopefully not too incriminating. “Just thought I saw something last night.”

A delicate brow arched with her smile, and if nothing else, she only seemed amused, not hurt. “A selkie?”

His grin didn’t hold the same humour, but then unlike her, he was entirely in earnest. “Not sure yet. I was hoping you might know.”

“You knew a lot more than I did,” Makino pointed out. “But I’ll let you know if I see one.” Then with a demurely glib quip he didn’t see coming, “Should I alert you to any seal I see, or does it have to proposition me first?”

Shanks caught Ben’s grin as he took a seat at the bar, and heard their laughter behind him as his crew moved to find their places.

Curiously, none of them mentioned the kiss, although watching Makino as she moved out from behind the bar to take their orders, maybe it wasn’t so strange, if their reluctance had the same cause as his.

He watched her making her way between the tables, greeting his men. And she’d known them less than a day, but already remembered their names, and their adoration was visible, like her flustered reaction to their eagerness at the promise of breakfast. Even his cook was present, although seemed entirely unconcerned by the gentle usurping, as Shanks heard him offer his services, to Makino’s surprise and delight.

The sunlight trailed her, drawing out her colours, the honey of her bodice and the sea glass in her dark hair, a glimpse before it was gone.

He saw her looking his way, before she averted her eyes, her grin belonging to one who’d been caught red handed, but where he should have been delighted by her obvious interest, Shanks felt only a sinking guilt.

He didn’t know why he’d skirted around telling her about the kiss. If he wasn’t going to pursue anything with her, it wouldn’t have made a difference if she knew. If anything, it might have made it easier if she did believe him a rogue who’d jump at the first offer he got.

But even having decided to leave well enough alone, he didn’t want her to think of him like that, which was a curious feeling, when he didn’t usually care what people thought of him, but somehow with her, it mattered. But it still wasn’t fair to lead her on, which was what he'd be doing if he wasn’t upfront with her, both about the kiss and his intentions.

Some of his inner conflict had to transfer, because Ben cut him a look. “We’ve been here less than a day.”

“How do you manage to pack _so_ much reproach into such a vague statement?”

“Practice,” Ben deadpanned. “And with you, it’s usually warranted.” Then with a glance at Makino, “Biting off more than you can chew? Two at the same time is bold, even for you.”

“There’s been no biting,” Shanks countered, but his glibness felt hollow as he corrected, “And it’s not two.” At Ben’s raised brows, he said, “I’ve decided to leave it alone.”

His first mate's surprise might have been gratifying, if he hadn’t felt so much regret.

Ben's gaze followed Makino, still busy taking orders. And her endearingly obvious attraction had escaped exactly no one, Shanks knew, but didn’t blame them for assuming he would have gone for it. Usually, he would have done so in a heartbeat.

Ben looked at him. “You like her."

“Yeah,” Shanks sighed, but not sure how else to explain it, “But it’s different.” A soft laugh drew his eyes across the room, and held them. “She’s different.”

Ben’s expression revealed nothing, and all he asked was, “What’s the endgame here?”

He didn’t mention the events of the other night, and gave no indication that he really had bought his story about the sea-maiden, but Shanks couldn’t explain his reason for staying any more than his reason not to pursue anything with Makino.

“I don’t know,” he said, simply. “I don’t have a strategy. It’s a gut-feeling.” Although he omitted the part about the two conflicting gut-feelings.

Ben accepted that at face value, but then he’d been his first mate long enough to have stopped questioning his instincts, although where they lead, not even he could predict.

“Be careful,” was all he said, although didn’t specify if it was concern for his wellbeing or Makino’s, but just as Shanks was about to assure him that's what he was _trying_ to do, “Just because she didn’t drown you yesterday doesn’t mean she won’t do it next time,” Ben added, with a look. “I don’t know the fae’s policy on double-dipping, but they’re known to be vindictive.”

“…I can’t tell if you’re being sincere or mocking me.”

The corner of Ben’s mouth lifted around his cigarette. “It can’t be both?”

He was about to retort with a comment about his unhelpfulness when Makino returned, fleet-footed where she swept past where they were sitting, scribbling in her notepad and so wholly engrossed in what she was doing, she wasn’t looking where she was going.

Shanks sensed when she tripped, the jolt in her presence, and had reached for her before she could stumble forward, his hands settling on her waist to steady her. The silk of her bodice brushed his palms, and he heard her sucking in a startled breath as she caught herself on his arm.

“Careful,” he chuckled, shifting his grip to avoid accidentally touching her inappropriately. His hands cupped her waist loosely, so small he could have easily circled it with just one, although forcibly dragged his thoughts away before he could fixate on that, or the way they looked touching her, gratifyingly big against her. “There's no need to rush. I know we’re hungry, but we're capable of restraint. Sometimes.”

He was about to take his hands away when Makino scrambled out of them. “Sorry!” The words stumbled over her tongue as she backed away from him, “I, um, wasn’t looking where I was going. I need to―”

She didn’t even finish the sentence, and knocked her hip against the edge of the counter before she turned and practically bolted into the storeroom, leaving Shanks staring after her, his hands still outstretched.

The whole room had followed her departure, before they all turned to him.

“What?" he asked, in answer to their expressions, somewhere between surprised and mildly accusing, and while the last one could have easily been deserved, this time Shanks was at a complete loss. "I haven’t done anything!”

―

The door to the storeroom slammed shut behind her, before her back met it, just in time for her to muffle a mortified sound with her hands.

She couldn’t have been more obvious if she’d been actively trying, which was mildly infuriating, when she’d been off to such a smooth start. Or, arguably smooth, anyway. The whole hour he’d been in her bar, she didn’t think he’d suspected anything, at least not beyond the painfully obvious infatuation she was nursing, and so subtly she might as well have been holding up a sign for him to read, but as long as that was all he thought it was, her secret was safe. Her dignity, not so much.

She had no idea what she was doing, or how she’d thought she could pull this off. She was a terrible liar, but she wasn’t _lying_ , exactly. It was easy pretending when no one suspected her of duplicity, when they just assumed she was human and didn’t have a reason to look for evidence to the contrary. The success of her charade relied largely on the assumptions of others, and as long as he didn’t have a reason to think she was anything but a normal, _human_ barmaid, Makino could keep up the appearance of being one.

But if she had to lie to his face about what she was, and to pretend it wasn’t her he’d kissed last night…

Touching her palms to her cheeks found them burning hot, and she made a pathetic sound as her head fell back against the door.

It had been easy when all they’d done was talk, the counter between them a safe barrier, but the second his hands had touched her she’d been back in the water and his arms, and couldn’t have controlled her reaction if she’d been prepared for it.

Palms pressed to her cheeks, Makino listened to their voices through the door. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but had a fairly good guess, although hoped they would write it off as nothing but a flustered girl’s crush, and that it didn’t have another reason―like the fact that she’d spied on their captain skinny dipping, and then asked him for a kiss.

A _kiss._

She didn't know what had come over her, doing something so bold, but she’d wanted so badly to know what it would feel like to be kissed by him, and thinking she was never going to see him again, hadn’t thought there’d be any harm in it. She hadn’t counted on him deciding to _stay_ , and now that he was still here, Makino didn’t know what she was supposed to do.

She couldn’t tell him. She had no idea how he would react to discovering what she was―or that she was the one he’d met by moonlight, and kissed.

Her fingers touched her lips as her stomach filled with flutters, leaving her dizzy, and glad she was leaning against the door.

She’d never been kissed, let alone like _that_ , recalling the sure grip of his hands, and his tongue. She hadn’t known it could feel like that, that it could reach all the way through her body, a closeness that lingered on her skin, a pattern she couldn’t see like her seal-spots but that she could feel, like she was glowing from within.

A shivering breath gusted from her lips, as she tipped her head back against the door.

She couldn’t believe she’d been so reckless. Not only had she revealed herself to him, she’d given him a reason to stay, and now he was asking questions. He could have left thinking there was nothing to discover here, and she’d be safe to continue her life as she had, but now she’d jeopardised her whole life, and for nothing but a kiss.

But oh, that kiss. Even now, she couldn’t regret it, and thinking back on her quiet life before him, didn’t want to go back to how it had been, when pleasure and longing had only belonged in her imagination, and when she’d never even dreamed of asking a sailor for a kiss, and least of all that she’d dare go through with it. And it was nothing like she’d thought it would be, was so much more, and now that she’d had a taste, like drinking saltwater, the thirst was only that much worse.

It didn’t help that she couldn’t hide her feelings. If she kept this up, he’d put the pieces together before the day was over, and Makino didn’t want to think about what would happen then, or what it would mean for her, and her quiet life here.

She wanted to believe it wouldn’t change the way he saw her, or worse―that it would change him, knowing now what he knew about her kind, and the power he could possess if he ever got hold of her sealskin.

She hadn’t known that part. She’d always known there was a reason she should keep anyone from taking it; a knowledge that had just been present for as long as she could remember, but no one had ever told her why, or what would happen if someone did. She’d thought seal hunters had been the reason her mother had locked away her pelt when she’d been younger, but now Makino thought it had been for a different reason―or at least a different kind of hunter, and a trap that was harder to escape than a fishing net.

She didn’t want to believe him capable of something like that, but they’d only just met, and even if his heart had given her no reason to suspect him, she’d heard men could change, if given the right opportunity. Maybe hearts could, too.

She would have to be careful, although couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if she sought him out again. He’d been looking for her that morning, and it wouldn’t be the last time, if his questions were any indication.

She thought of the stories he’d told her, of the seal-folk. And it was just a little piece of information, but it felt like it had filled a gap that had been within her for most of her life, knowing now that her kind had a name, and a history.

 _Selkie_ , she thought, tasting the word. She couldn’t replicate the ones he’d spoken, in that beautiful language that had rolled so pleasantly off his tongue. She loved his voice, the way it seemed to have been made for telling stories, a warmth in it that exuded from his whole presence.

His face flashed before her eyes, wearing that grin, and she pressed her hand over her stomach, as though to quell the flutters, but it was impossible when she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

It took her a moment to collect herself, but when she was confident her face wasn’t broadcasting her feelings to the whole world, Makino grabbed a random bottle to make it look like she’d gone in with a purpose, and opened the door.

The din of her bar welcomed her back, her reappearance noted without comment, and whatever they thought of her behaviour, the pirates at least did her the courtesy of pretending they didn’t all know the reason.

Shanks had less discretion, his eyes zeroing in on the bottle in her hands, before lifting to hers. His tone was suspiciously mild when he asked her, “Port?”

Makino looked at the bottle, a glaringly random choice given the time of day, and blurted, “Yes.”

“To go with the eggs and bacon?”

Demure, she lifted her chin. “You’ve never had port with eggs and bacon?”

His eyes glittered, silver as the surface of the sea outside. “I’ll have to take your word for it,” Shanks said, with a smile that had her momentarily forgetting what she was even supposed to be doing, but it wasn't her fault that he looked like that, rugged in a way that made it hard to think, at least about anything other than how it had felt to kiss him, his nose pressed against hers and his beard rough against her cheeks.

It drew her gaze now where it covered his own neatly, sharpening his chiselled features, the dark colour making his eyes stand out, and his hair. A silver scar peeked through where it cut diagonally across his upper lip; it always snagged her gaze whenever he smiled.

It wasn’t fair. Her kind were supposed to be the ones in possession of dangerous beauty, and yet she was the one having to remind herself not to gawk like an idiot.

It was also a feat in itself to keep her eyes from continuing down his chest where his open shirt bared it, and the dark hair where it covered his torso before disappearing under the sash around his hips, knowing now what he looked like underneath.

“Aren't you going to pour it?” Shanks asked, nodding to the bottle she was holding and startling her out of her staring.

"Y-yes!"

As she poured him a glass, she briefly considered sneaking a swig for herself, but quickly decided against it. She didn’t drink normally, let alone while she worked, and the last thing she needed was to loosen her tongue around him any more than it already was.

Thankfully, someone caught her gaze from across the room with a silent request for a refill, and it was a small relief to escape the hold of his eyes as Makino left him at the bar with his newly filled glass, and had just walked out from behind the counter when his voice stopped her.

“When you get back, do you think I could get another?”

Her heart lurched against her chest, as she froze.

For a beat, Makino didn’t dare move, before slowly turning towards him, and knew then that he’d figured her out, and had only been biding his time before he revealed it.

The smile that greeted her looked bemused, as Shanks gestured to his polished plate. “Serving,” he said, and mistaking the reason for her reaction, “Not a drink. I’m already on my second and it’s not even noon, which as far as day drinking goes is excessive even by pirate standards.”

Her relief was delayed, still frozen with terror, but, “Oh," Makino said. "Oh! Right. I’ll, er, get right on it.”

She didn’t linger long enough to catch the look on his face, fearing what he would find in hers, and took her time making her rounds before she returned, and barely paused to grab his empty plate before escaping into the kitchen, although felt his gaze tracking her passage.

But focusing on work helped, and with her bar at full capacity there was certainly enough for her to do, allowing her to lose herself in it, and not think about what she was trying to hide. And at least it was easy to maintain her charade while doing her job, which wasn’t pretend. Whatever else she was, she was also a barmaid, and Party’s owner; her nature didn’t change that, and even a convenient disguise, she loved her job.

Shanks’ cook helped her with breakfast, which she appreciated, with all the mouths to feed. And Marsh was like her, quiet and organised, and they worked so well together, she briefly contemplated asking him if he’d consider switching careers, although decided against it, fearing that even teasingly meant, it would reveal just how much she enjoyed having them there.

It inched too close to a truth she was doing her best to suppress, but loneliness had always been part and parcel of the life she’d accepted, living alone among humans. She was the only one of her kind here, and no matter how well they all knew her, there was no one in Fuschia who knew her beneath her skin. Her soul had no kin, someone to see her for who she was, past all her charades, her loneliness the easiest one to hide but the hardest to live with.

The hours passed quickly, and suddenly the sun was setting beyond her windows. She was coming out of the kitchen when it hit her, finding the last of the daylight disappearing behind the horizon. It would be dark soon, and the moon would be out, waning now but still bright enough to pose a danger on a clear night. She would have to remember to close the shutters.

It had been an unusually hot day, the kind that gathered with sweat between her shoulder blades and her breasts, and made her itch to strip out of her layers, her silk slip clinging uncomfortably under her frock. With her whole bar filled, the heat felt especially pervasive, the amount of bodies in close quarters leaving the air heavy and damp.

She longed for the water, cool and dark against her bare skin, and only the sky watching.

Shanks had rolled his sleeves up, cinched and straining over his biceps where he leaned his elbows on the counter, the taut muscle flexing occasionally when he moved. She'd been so distracted by them earlier she'd nearly spilled a bottle of sake.

Luffy had come in for supper, a pink sunburn on his cheeks and his pockets teeming with seashells, and had resumed his eager interrogation from the day before, a hundred new questions about piracy ready, but then Shanks didn’t seem to mind, and had answers for every single one.

“Why does your ship look like a dragon?”

“A pirate ship needs a figurehead,” Shanks said, with the tone of one imparting some great morsel of wisdom, which Luffy devoured with wide eyes. “And I thought it was cool.”

He was playing with a seashell he'd been gifted, dancing over the backs of his fingers, large and nimble. Makino tried very hard not think about how they'd felt on her bare skin, or that she wanted to ask where he'd gotten the scar by his thumb, and the one across his knuckles.

Luffy had none of her qualms. “Why does your face look like that?”

“Fishing accident.”

He got an accusing finger for that. “Yesterday you said it was bears!”

“Did I say that? That sounds way more plausible.”

Luffy peered up at him suspiciously. “Are you lying?”

His tumbler lifted to his lips, Shanks grinned. “Almost definitely.”

Busy polishing glasses behind the bar, Makino was attempting to listen without being too obvious, but then she’d been curious about his scars since she’d first seen them.

His grin softened then, as Shanks told him, this time with a different inflection, “It’s not a story I like to tell.”

Luffy cocked his head; he seemed to take no offence to this, only asked him, “Why not?”

“Because it’s not very fun.”

He said it without scorn and even deprecating humour, just a simple fact, and although that didn’t help sate her own curiosity, it prompted a different feeling in her.

She was surprised he took the time to explain, when he could have just kept joking, or brushed him off, but even if he enjoyed teasing him, he treated Luffy with a respect and a patience she hadn’t witnessed from anyone else. Not like he was an adult, but like his questions were still valid, and his curiosity anything but a bother.

He was good with children.

She didn’t know what to do with this feeling, or what to even call it, a softer kind of yearning where it expanded behind her breast.

Luffy had relinquished his curiosity about his scars, and asked instead, “If you're a pirate, how come you don’t have a peg leg?”

Shanks was so quick to answer, she had to wonder if he’d had the reply ready. “Can't keep up with _all_ the fashion trends, although I did briefly consider getting one―thought it would give me a leg up on the competition―but I couldn’t decide which one to give up. I’m pretty attached to them.”

She couldn’t help her snort, and saw that it drew his gaze, and a grin along his mouth. For his part, Luffy seemed impervious to his attempted wit, and took this answer in good faith.

“Why don't you button your shirt?” he asked then, just as Yasopp arrived at the counter for a refill, a grin offered to his captain as he passed his glass to Makino.

“Corrupting the new generation, Boss?”

“Always,” Shanks said, raising his drink, a wink slipped her way, before he told Luffy, “When your chest looks this good, you owe it to the world.”

Makino delicately made a point of looking anywhere but at his pectorals, although didn’t miss when he flexed one, and caught Yasopp’s knowing grin as she turned to tap him another pint.

“Hey, Luffy,” she heard Shanks saying then. “You’ve lived in this place your whole life. Do you know any stories from around here?”

Her heart froze in her chest.

“Stories?”

“Yeah,” Shanks said. His tone was conversational, more curious than anything else. “Like fairy tales, or ghost stories. Any interesting rumours?”

He seemed to think about this, and lifting back up from where she’d been kneeling by the keg, Makino wiped the residue foam off the tankard before handing it to Yasopp, just as Luffy announced, “Gramps says we’re cursed.”

They all looked at him in surprise. Shanks’ brows had lifted; Makino saw how it pulled at his scars. “ _Cursed_?” This time when he looked at her, it was with teasing accusation, as though she’d wilfully kept this little tidbit from him, but she hadn’t the faintest idea of what Luffy was talking about.

Yasopp leaned his elbow on the counter. “This just got interesting.”

Unfazed by their sudden attention, Luffy just shrugged. “There’s a lot of spinsters here. I don’t know what that means though. Is that some kind of ghost?”

Startled, Makino cleared her throat, and tried her best to ignore the shit-eating grin directed at her from over the counter. Laughing, Yasopp saluted them both, before making his way back to his table, as though happy to leave them to explain this.

“Not ghosts,” Shanks said, a gently conspiring grin shared with her. “At least not yet.”

“Luffy,” Makino laughed softly, her voice tinged with fond exasperation. “You shouldn’t listen to everything your grandpa says.” _Really,_ Garp.

She wondered idly if that was his prediction for her own future, although couldn’t exactly say he was wrong for assuming. It wasn’t like she could just get married and have children, like a human girl her age. Spinsterhood was the most likely outcome, as she’d long since accepted, but then she hadn’t been raised with the same expectations as other girls, that she ought to be wed and with child within a certain age, or even want to be.

She’d always known she was different, and that it meant her life would be different, and so didn’t know why she felt like this now, watching them across the counter, as Shanks smoothly dodged Luffy’s follow-up questions.

“But what does that mean?” Luffy pressed, annoyed he wasn’t being allowed in on the joke. “Are they scary? B-because I’m not afraid!”

Another conspiring look was shared with her, making her heart jump, and her softer smile gently deflected Luffy’s look of betrayal at their collusion as Makino turned to place the glass in her hands back on the shelf, needing a moment without his eyes on her, before her face could reveal everything she was thinking, although this time, it wasn’t her secret she was worried about revealing.

Wiping her fingers on her apron, she paused, grazing the soft mound beneath.

She wondered what it would be like to carry one of her own, her belly heavy like she’d seen on some of the fishermen’s wives. According to what Shanks had told her, it was possible, even if she didn’t know what a child like that would even look like; if it would be more human, or like her.

The longing that gripped her now was new. And she didn’t know what to do with them all, content her whole life with what she’d had, only to suddenly _want_ so many things. A baby who’d be like her, and who she could teach the things she knew. A girl, maybe, a silver-spotted pelt like hers, and freckles on her nose, born halfway between the land and the water, and fearless in a place that only knew to love her.

She stopped the thought before it could go any further, imagining more specific features, like a wide, beautiful mouth, and had killed it before she could imagine the colour of her hair, and if her pelt would be different, the red of a blood moon instead of silver-white.

“You like to fish for crabs, right?” Shanks asked Luffy then, just as she’d reached for another glass, his voice offering a welcome foothold for her scrambling thoughts, as Makino looked up, surprised he’d remembered that little detail, shared with him eagerly the day before, and saw how Luffy brightened at the mention.

“Yeah!”

“Have you ever seen any seals while you’ve been fishing?”

“Seals?”

“Yeah, they’re really cute. Small and fuzzy, with adorable little flippers?” He made a gesture with his hands, describing a curved shape, although it just ended up looking lewd, and catching her eyes, he flashed her such a filthy grin, she nearly fumbled the glass in her hands.

As expected, it had gone right over Luffy’s head. “I dunno,” he said, uncertain. “There’s a sea king, but it’s not cute.”

“Sure it wasn’t that you met?” Ben asked, as the room responded with roaring laughter.

Shanks stuck his tongue out at them all. “I think I would know,” he defended, although with a grin that was unapologetically in on the joke. “The teeth would have given me pause.”

She’d noticed he made a point of avoiding talking about the kiss, at least in overt terms, and wondered why. He didn’t strike her as someone who was shy about that kind of thing, but for some reason he kept skirting around it, even though they’d all clearly heard about it. And even his crew were being surprisingly restrained, although she’d caught them changing the subject when she’d walked past their tables, which made her wonder if they were trying to hide it from her, even as she couldn’t guess why.

But maybe it was for the best that they didn’t talk about it; Makino was surprised she’d managed to keep a mostly straight face so far, but didn’t know how she’d hold up under scrutiny, if Shanks decided she knew something and meant to get it out of her.

Thankfully, his questions for Luffy had yielded nothing incriminating, but just as she thought she was out of the woods, “What do you want a seal for?” Luffy asked.

She tried to appear as inconspicuous as possible, pretending to focus on the glass in her hands, and to not let it show that she was holding her breath.

“Some stories say seals can change into pretty girls,” Shanks explained.

She almost didn’t dare look at Luffy, for fear that he’d accidentally reveal her secret. And he’d never seen her change, but he knew she _could_.

She remembered their conversation, not too long ago. And he’d asked her before, but a little older now, his questions had grown more specific, wanting to know what people meant when they said she’d come from the sea, and why they’d told him to keep his mouth shut about it.

Makino had tried to explain it as best she could, in a way a child his age would understand. _If people outside the village find out that I’m…different, they might want to hurt me._

_But why?_

Her heart had hurt at the innocence behind it, but she was glad his life had yet to teach him that lesson. And she had been lucky, too. No one had ever hurt her, or even threatened it, but she had still lived with the danger, and long before she knew the name it held.

_It’s just what some people do._

He’d pondered this, but hadn’t needed more explanation, or more reason to promise her what he had, and so fiercely it had stolen her breath.

_I’ll keep your secret, Ma-chan!_

She’d never feared trusting him with it, or that he’d accidentally let it slip, but she hadn’t counted on someone asking him about it, and more than that, someone he looked up to.

If he looked at her now, even just a brief glance, Shanks would know. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that he would put the pieces together.

But Luffy didn’t look at her, although his face told Makino he’d made the connection, but then for all that many things went straight over his head, he was sharper than most gave him credit.

He was also as bad at lying as she was, and the fact that he pinched his lips shut signalled loud and clear that he knew something, which didn’t escape Shanks, but to Makino’s surprise, all he said was, “So I’ve heard, anyway.” His smile forfeited the venture, and entirely without the reluctance she would have expected from anyone else. “Could just be the legacy of horny sailors seeing what they want to see.”

“Including you?” Ben asked, but that only had his captain's grin widening, although Makino noticed that he avoided meeting her eyes.

A call from the room drew his attention, and when he turned to reply, Makino quietly let the breath she’d been holding go. Her hands were shaking around the glass, and she willed them to still.

Luffy’s eyes met hers, a question in them that had her smile wavering on her mouth, but even unable to tell him out loud, she hoped he knew that she was grateful, and that one day, he’d understand the magnitude of what he’d done.

Then he looked at Shanks, and with guileless innocence, asked, “What does ‘horny’ mean?”

Makino heard him choke on his drink, coughing as the room responded with laughter.

“All yours, Cap!” Yasopp called.

Shanks’ gaze found hers, requesting assistance, but Makino only smiled demurely, and silently resolved to cook Luffy’s favourite tomorrow as she turned her focus back to her job.

Looking at Ben found him watching her. “Another old fashioned, Ben?”

He inclined his head in acceptance, and made no comment as he handed over his empty glass, but then she’d gathered he preferred to observe than take part in the conversation, although when he did, he was just as quick with the comebacks as his captain.

She was getting the bottle of bourbon when, “What are your thoughts on the myth?” Ben asked, surprising her.

His expression was level, surrendering nothing of what he thought. “About seals turning into pretty girls?” Makino asked, as she looked for the measuring cup, and tried to keep her tone mild as she said, “I think the sea can play tricks on the mind.” But just to be safe, she added a measure of truth, "But it sounds rather lovely. I should like to swim like a seal, I think."

Ben didn’t comment on that, and she couldn’t help her curiosity as she raised her eyes to his. “You strike me as a reasonable man,” Makino said. “What do you think?”

His expression still let nothing slip, although a gleam entered his eyes as he said, “I think there’s usually an explanation for most things. You just have to look at the evidence.”

Their gazes held. And out of all of Shanks’ crew aside from their captain, she’d feared Ben the most likely to figure out her secret, but his expression revealed nothing, and Makino hoped he really was too rational to buy into the concept of shapeshifters and magic.

“It’s a type of condition,” Shanks was saying, drawing their eyes towards him, and Luffy.

“Eh?”

“A kind of...state, or a change in your body. Has anyone told you about puberty yet?”

Luffy’s eyes rounded, suddenly fearful. “W-why? What is it?"

"Shit, yeah, you're like six. Nevermind, forget I said anything."

"But your body _changes_?"

"Nothing dramatic," Shanks said, in an effort to backtrack. "And at least that's temporary. The, er, horniness."

"For most people who aren't teenagers," Ben shot in with a look, as Makino coughed, startled, and tried to hide her smile behind her hand.

Shanks just grinned, and when his whole crew hollered their agreement, welcomed the charge.

Luffy examined him suspiciously, as though to root out any signs of this strange malady. "How does it change?"

His laugh sounded winded, but he didn't seem annoyed, just that he couldn't believe the corner he'd talked himself into.

“There’s usually swelling," Shanks said at length. "And accelerated blood flow to your…head.”

Luffy's eyes rounded. “Is it dangerous?”

Makino wasn't sure if he was hoping it would be that, or the opposite, but caught Shanks’ grin, as he said, “Not dangerous.” But when Luffy’s face fell, “It’s just pent-up energy,” he explained. “You know the feeling when you’ve been stuck inside all day and you just want to go outside and play?”

“Yeah!”

“Well it’s like that, except the kind of playing you want to do is different.”

“Different how?”

Shanks looked at them both, but Ben just grinned, and offered no help. Makino folded her lips to keep from smiling, although didn’t have the same success in suppressing her blush as Shanks flashed her a knowing grin, and told Luffy, “It’s the kind of playing adults do. Alone or together, although personally, I prefer playing with someone to playing with myself.”

Her cheeks coloured, but she tried her best to focus on measuring the components of the drink she was making, and to ignore the room full of grinning pirates.

Bourbon first.

It didn’t help that she was now thinking about how he'd felt, big and stiff against her stomach.

 _Bourbon_ first, and then―

Luffy’s grimace expressed the doubt of someone who’d long since written adulthood off as boring and devoid of any kind of playing, although coming from an adult he genuinely admired, he seemed to be reevaluating his initial judgement.

“Is it fun?” he asked then; the most important factor of any game.

Shanks’ grin was rakish, and she didn’t think it was her imagination that his gaze fleeted towards her briefly, as he said, “If you do it right, it’s a _lot_ of fun.”

Bourbon. What came after the bourbon?

Luffy seemed to contemplate this, before he nodded in acceptance of this new wisdom, but just as Makino thought he was about to move to a different subject, he asked Shanks, “Have you played with Ma-chan?”

She dropped the measuring cup, and had to scramble for the dish-rag to furiously mop up the bitters she’d spilled all over the counter.

She didn’t dare look at any of them.

Unfazed by her reaction, “She works _all_ the time,” Luffy said, innocently. “She should play more.”

She heard Shanks clearing his throat, and the chuckle that left him was no help to her current state as he said roughly, “Sound advice for anyone.”

Furiously prim, Makino refused to look anyone in the eye, least of all the pair she felt watching her from across the counter, but there was nowhere to hide, and handing Ben his finished drink, delicately ignoring his knowing look, she grabbed her tray and excused herself, her cheeks burning as she all but threw herself into the crowded room. She was glad of the counter for the protection it offered, but there was something liberating about losing herself in the crowd. It was one of the reasons she loved her job, which allowed her to take part in the revelry, but unseen.

Except she felt anything but unseen today, sensing their eyes on her, and her concentration was usually unwavering, but she felt awkwardly aware of herself, mindful of how she walked, and if her hair was messy and her kerchief straight, and if she should have gone for the velvet dress instead, with the dipping collar.

Walking over to the table where Yasopp and Lucky were sitting, she chanced a glance over her shoulder, only to catch Shanks watching her, and was caught so off guard she nearly dropped her tray when she bumped into a chair, and it took the whole table springing from their seats to keep her on her feet this time.

“Whoa!”

“Close one!”

“You okay, Makino?”

Her laugh sounded strained even to her own ears, as she gestured for them to sit back down. “I’m fine,” she assured them, and very deliberately didn’t look towards the bar this time. “Just a little unsteady on my feet today.”

They must have mistaken her reaction as having a different cause, because after sharing a look, “Kimchi fried rice,” Lucky said.

She blinked. She was so distracted she couldn't keep up. “What?”

“Boss’ favourite,” another elaborated, with a conspiring look. “Do with that what you will.”

A third interjected, “They say the fastest way to a man’s bed―”

“ _Heart,_ ” coughed someone from the next table over.

“―did I say bed? I meant heart. The fastest way to a man’s _heart_ is through his stomach.”

“The fastest way to his bed is just to ask,” someone else interjected, to her horror, but before she could protest, someone else beat her to it.

“But if you’re not sure how to go about it, Boss likes a flash of tit―” A kick under the table had him choking on the word, before he finished, “― _ilating_ conversation! _Ow_.”

A beat, before someone else quipped, “And tit.”

“Stop giving her terrible advice!”

“What about it is terrible? The one she’s up against will be using worse tricks. _And_ tits.”

“That’s exactly why she should do the opposite!”

“Yeah, don’t listen to them, Makino! Just be yourself!”

“But y’know, it wouldn’t hurt to stake your claim a little,” another added, to murmurs of agreement.

“Hence the food. Tits are optional―”

“But encouraged!”

“―and oh, bring him somewhere!”

“Yeah, Boss likes to explore!”

“Gotta be some great locations around here. Somewhere private.”

“And romantic!”

“It’d make him forget all about that sea hag―”

Someone _shushed_ him, although Makino didn’t know if she was grateful for their obvious concern or horrified they were even having this conversation, but whichever it was, she was relieved they didn’t suspect her of any kind of duplicity, and at least her flustered reaction managed to conceal the offending sea hag’s identity.

Her blush scalded her cheeks, and there was nowhere safe to rest her eyes, with knowing grins wherever she looked. “Thank you for the, er, _suggestions_ , but I’m not trying to get into his bed―heart!” When their grins only grew wider, she cleared her throat, painfully aware that her face had to be a brilliant shade of pink. “So there’s no assistance necessary. Really, I’m quite content.”

Their visible delight said they didn’t believe her, and Makino briefly contemplated making a run for it when Yasopp spoke up, “He likes you.”

They all looked at him. And he took a different approach, but she saw from the grin that stretched along his mouth that he’d hit the mark.

Stubbornly demure, Makino ignored it, and the flutters filling her stomach, willing herself to remember the facts as she pointed them out, “He strikes me as someone who likes most people.”

His eyes were shrewd, the kind she usually tried to avoid at all costs, although there was no suggestion in his presence that he suspected anything beyond her painfully obvious crush. Of course, the fact that they all knew about it was bad enough.

“Maybe,” Yasopp agreed. “But he doesn’t stick around for most people.”

Her heart did a little somersault, before it fell, recalling his interest in their local folk tales, and his polite reactions to her glaringly obvious attraction, which he’d already made clear he didn’t reciprocate.

“I don’t think I’m the reason,” Makino said, quietly. And she didn’t tell them that she knew about the kiss, although saw they looked ready to protest, but before they could say anything, she was alerted to voices outside.

Yasopp had already sensed them coming, but Makino was glad he didn’t notice that she had, too. She was trying not to use her haki around them. Pretending to be untrained would raise less questions than if they knew she was, and how deep her abilities went. She didn’t want to have to explain, afraid she’d let slip something else.

Heavy footsteps sounded across her porch, bringing a wave of loud laughter, crashing against the doors as they were pushed inwards, admitting the crew of bandits. And it wasn’t unlike the day before, except the pirates gathered in her bar were the ones who raised their eyes to the newcomers where they filed inside.

Unease curled in her gut, watching as they filed inside. They rarely came down from the hills, keeping to the main road and the outskirts of Goa Port, and it had been years since they’d last been down in Fuschia. She'd been fourteen the last time, still just a serving girl, and her mother had banished her to the kitchen to wash dishes even though there hadn’t been any to clean, and she’d watched them through a crack in the door until they’d left. Her mother hadn’t suffered fools, and bandits even less.

Their leader stood at the head of the group, his hands in the pockets of his trousers. He was a tall, thin man in his forties with a coarse face and a prominent scar above his brow. His posture reeked of the same confidence she found in his presence, but his heart was the most telling feature, a loud, bragging song of self-glorification that desired recognition above all else. It cut her ears like a discordant tune, but she kept herself from flinching.

Makino knew his name was Higuma, although she’d never actually spoken to him directly. The last time he’d set foot inside, her mother had tossed him out for disorderly behaviour, and he hadn’t shown his face since.

His gaze had seized on her the moment he’d walked in, and he looked her up and down now where she stood at the centre of the room amidst the tables, his eyes lingering a bit too long for a perfunctory sweep, and she wondered if it was her imagination that the pirates shifted in their seats.

His eyes lifted to hers. He had a bored, lazy look. “Heard the old broad finally kicked it.”

Makino tried not to bristle at the callous mention, the wound still fresh, but he didn’t seem particularly concerned about that as he asked her, “You’re running this place now?”

She straightened her shoulders, and didn’t know if it was the presence of the pirates that gave her the courage or her mother’s memory, but, “I am,” Makino said, and was glad when her voice remained steady. Not loud and commanding the way her mother’s had been, but gently firm.

The eyes of the whole room were on them. Shanks’ crew had ceased speaking, and she was abruptly reminded of how much she hated being in the spotlight, but refused to cower. This was her bar, and they would respect her like they had her mother.

Higuma’s gaze shifted towards the counter then, where Shanks was sitting with Luffy. He’d turned on his barstool, and had his elbows leaned on the bartop. Without his cloak and sword, there was little that suggested he was the captain, aside from the air of authority he had, which hadn’t passed the bandits by, as Higuma suddenly addressed him, “You, pirate. You the owner of the ship in the port?”

That ‘pirate’ had been meant as an obvious jab, and her unease blossomed to genuine panic as she feared a fight would break out, but none of the pirates even flinched, and, “That’s me,” Shanks said mildly. “Want a tour? There’s complimentary drinks, and for a small fee we’ll let you walk the plank and turn the wheel. Fun for the whole family.”

Anyone else might have decided against glibness in the face of a potentially hostile group, but the lack of mockery made it sound sincere more than anything, and Makino saw the second Higuma dismissed him as any kind of threat, as his lip peeled back from his teeth.

The bandits behind him hadn’t moved, but then there were no available seats for them to claim, short of challenging the pirates for them, although no one had reached for their weapons.

Nervously, Makino glanced towards the windows. It was getting dark fast, and she hadn’t closed the shutters. The moon would already be visible; she could feel it, like an itch under her skin.

She needed to do something, and before she could think, “I’m sorry, but we’re full,” she said, and was surprised by how firm she sounded, her voice gentle but leaving no room for argument.

She saw the bandit leader’s eyes where they swept the room, every table occupied, and thought then that he would object, and feared a fight was imminent. And she might have offered him a barrel or two to keep the peace, preferring diplomacy to her mother’s threats of dismemberment, but the pirates had gone through most of her stores, and her next shipment was due in three days.

But then Higuma scoffed, “You’re politer than the old hag was, I’ll give you that. Mah, whatever.” He made a gesture to the doors. “Cheaper drink in Goa, anyway. And better women.”

Roaring approval from his men backed the announcement, and Makino saw the corner of his mouth curling up, as though pleased by this little slight at her expense. He hadn’t even spared Shanks a second glance, his eyes fixed on her.

She saw his brows furrowing a bit, and tried to discreetly turn her face away from the windows, but if he’d caught anything, Higuma dismissed it a second later, as he turned to leave, shoving through the doors so hard the hinges shrieked. The bandits followed, still laughing.

The sound of the hinges lingered as their voices grew fainter, and only when she was sure they weren’t coming back did Makino let her shoulders relax, and her breath to ease out.

None of the pirates spoke, and knowing now how loud they could be, the silence felt suddenly oppressive, as she became acutely aware of how many of them were looking at her.

Her hands shook around her tray as she excused herself, and didn’t meet their eyes she retreated to the bar, craving the safety of the counter, and something to distract her hands.

Shanks’ eyes met hers as she came around the bar, his brow furrowed gently. That last look from the bandit leader hadn’t escaped him, but his voice held only mild curiosity when he asked her, “Do they come by often?”

Makino shook her head. “This is the first time they’ve been down here since I took over.” She didn’t say she hoped it would be the last in a good long while. Her mother had always known how to handle them, had been fearless, but Makino had never liked confrontation, and didn’t know what she would have done had she been alone.

She tried for a confident smile, although felt how it faltered on her mouth. “I’ve had so much business lately,” she said. “I won’t know what to do with all this income. I might have to start ordering bigger shipments.”

“You could always expand,” Shanks said, with a nod to the bar. “Start your own brewery. You won’t be dependent on shipments if you make your own ale.”

The comment suggested he’d picked up on her earlier concern, but she liked that idea, and her smile this time didn’t waver. “I’ll have to think about it.”

She didn’t tell him she hoped she’d have enough customers to need it, knowing she couldn’t get comfortable with the thought of him staying, which was a dangerous thing to want, even without her secret.

Shanks smiled; the one that made it hard to catch her breath. “I’d love to give my feedback if you do. Not to brag, but I know good ale. Drinking it, at least.”

She spoke without thinking, “You’ll have to stop by then,” Makino said, “when I’ve got it up and running.”

Their eyes held, like her heart in her chest, realising what she’d just suggested, and boldly, but Shanks only smiled, and allowed her to keep her hope that he might return one day. But then he had stayed, and even if it wasn’t for her, there was a little of her power in it. It wasn’t the compulsion they sang about in the old shanties, warning sailors of the whims of the sea-folk, and if there was any magic to it, it was a gentle sort.

She wondered how he’d react if she sought him out again. And even knowing the risk, and the danger she’d be putting herself in by doing it, the desire was greater, leaving her short of breath just thinking about it.

Forcing her mind to clear, she glanced towards the windows again, and the darkening sea. She’d been far too distracted today, and had to close the shutters before she completely forgot, and accidentally revealed herself to his whole crew.

“It’s getting a bit chilly in here,” she said, and rubbed her bare arms for good measure, although the goosebumps were real enough. “I think I’ll close the shutters.”

No one questioned it, although with her back turned, she missed Ben’s eyes where they followed her, but he made no comment, and when she turned back to make another round, the conversation was flowing again, like nothing had disrupted it in the first place. And with the moon and the bandits both out of sight, it didn’t take long for the last of the tension to leave her shoulders, and to forget she had anything to fear here, in her quiet little port.

But she should, Makino would realise later, have known better than to count her blessings too soon.

―

The bandits didn’t return, and the evening progressed without any further disturbances, until Makino announced the last call of the night.

Shanks thought she looked tired, but then she was probably still exhausted from yesterday. He knew she didn’t have this many customers on a regular basis, and his crew would pose a challenge even for a fully staffed tavern.

“Looks like it’s time to retire,” he said, watching as his crew bid her goodnight. “So you can get some sleep.”

“I’m not tired,” Makino defended, even as she failed to stifle a yawn with her hand. She looked adorably rumpled, her kerchief slightly askew, and he redirected his thoughts before they could take that image and run somewhere dangerous, like his bunk first thing in the morning.

“Breakfast tomorrow?” he asked instead, dispelling the image of her dark eyes smiling between rumpled sheets. “We’ll pay this time.”

“You can try,” she countered, with that note of gentle challenge that had his grin widening, seized by the impulse to take her up on it, but her softening smile made him forget what he’d even been thinking about, as Makino asked, “Does that mean you’re staying, then?”

She was trying for casual interest, but her voice didn’t succeed in hiding the hope in it any more than her expression did.

Shanks tried his best to keep his own mild. “For a little while,” he said. “Feels like a good time for a break, and there’s something about this place.” He wasn’t just referring to the mysterious sea-maiden or the quiet village, and his eyes held hers when he told her, “It’s peaceful.”

Her smile was understanding, although he wondered if she thought he was really talking about the village in general, and not her, the embodiment of rest whose presence made him forget that time was passing, his worries left at her threshold like he really could take them off with his cloak.

But it was probably for the best that she did think it was just the village, and he had no business suggesting anything else, even if it was the truth.

The last of his crew had departed, and it was just the two of them left. With all the windows shuttered, the bar was dark save the lamps and candles she’d lit, and the embers still burning in the hearth. The firelight brought out a hint of brandy in her eyes, faint like a last drop at the bottom of a glass. She had the most curious eyes; Shanks kept discovering new things every time he looked at them.

“I’m glad you’re staying,” Makino blurted then, before she quickly added, “I mean, it hasn’t been this lively in―well, never, and I’m―”

She didn't finish, although her blush said enough, and grinning, Shanks tried very hard not to be so stupidly endeared by her whole personality, but it was difficult when she insisted on being so adorable.

“I’m also glad you were here today,” she said, gentler this time. “I don’t know what would have happened if I’d been alone.”

Shanks smiled, and said, “You handled that better than most would in your shoes." He recalled the steel in her spine, wrought from a gentler fire, but a fire nonetheless. And most would equate a show of strength with power-strutting, but it took just as much strength to remain unbending against stronger contenders.

Raising his brows, he added, "But then you’ve already proved more than capable in wrangling rowdy patrons.”

Her grin preened under the praise, but he’d meant every word, although recognised the difference between his men and the ones who’d entered her bar today.

He didn’t tell her the bandits made him wary, but as long as they hadn’t lifted a hand to her, it wasn’t his business to throw his weight around. And anyway, they were pirates; it wasn’t like Shanks could claim the moral high ground in terms of occupation. Their actions would show their true natures. He wouldn’t intervene unless it was necessary, although made a point to keep an eye on it, in case they showed up again.

“I just hope you won’t get bored,” Makino said, with a small smile that revealed a surprising amount, but then she had the most expressive face he’d ever seen. “It’s rarely this exciting.”

Shanks just smiled, although privately disagreed. The two days he’d been here hadn’t been boring a second, and it had nothing to do with the bandits. Instead, he said, “I’m never bored. The trick is to make a party out of any situation.”

The twinkle in her eyes said she was unsurprised, and that she thought him fully capable. “Are you moving this one to the ship then?” she asked, but hastened to add, “Y-you mentioned it last night, so I just assumed.”

She seemed flustered by the suggestion that she’d been keeping tabs on him, although for his part, Shanks had to swallow his knee-jerk response, which had been to say he wouldn’t have minded if she did.

And had the situation been different, this would have been the moment where he'd invite her back to his ship, to share a glass with him now that she was done working, knowing already where it would lead―their drinks untouched, and her, well, not for much longer.

Christ, he really shouldn't want it so much, to be her first, but it was hard when he couldn't stop thinking about it, wondering how much she knew about sex, and wanting to be the one to show her; and harder still when she looked at him like that―like she might let him, if he asked.

“Might throw in the towel early tonight,” he said, and had to clear his throat when his voice came out sounding tellingly rough. “Was pushing it yesterday, and I was up early, too. A man needs his beauty sleep, especially now that I’m sailing close to thirty.”

He’d expected a gentle quip about his age, but her smile was too sincere, and instead of teasing, he found a very different reaction in the way she averted her eyes now, as though she was trying not to be so obvious in her appreciation of him, although promptly failed.

She really was making this whole platonic venture rather difficult, and before he could think twice, “You don’t have that problem," he said.

Her mouth pursed, as Makino quipped, “It’s still a good few years until I’m as close to thirty as you are.”

Shanks laughed, and, “Cute,” he said, and this time, managed to stop himself from saying that she’d be beautiful even without the extra sleep.

He needed to get out of here before he forgot himself, and did something he couldn’t take back.

And before she noticed why he was holding his straw hat level with his hips instead of putting it on.

“I think I’ll take a walk along the shore on my way back,” he said, although a glance towards the windows found only the wooden shutters. “I was going to say it’s a beautiful night, but I’m actually not sure. Do you always keep these closed?”

“It’s an old house,” Makino said, with a sheepish smile. “I get cold easily. I’m sorry.”

He grinned. “No need. I run a little hot, and sometimes I forget not everyone does.”

The colour in her cheeks deepened, and, “You seem to be,” Makino said, before stumbling to add, “Hot. I mean, you are―but n-not like that! Just―your shirt is always―” She gestured at his chest, although was trying her best not to look directly at it. It took physical effort to keep from cheekily flexing anything, if only to see her reaction. “You seem _comfortable_ is what I meant.”

Fuck, she was adorable. How could anyone be allowed to be this cute? It really wasn’t fair.

Shanks hoped his smile looked polite, and not like an actual reflection of his thoughts, and he couldn't control his body's reactions to her, but he was getting better at forcibly suppressing the fact that he wanted her so much it was all he could think about.

Makino made a soft huff, as though at herself, before she bent to pick up the discarded dish-rag where it had fallen to the floor earlier, and would have knocked her head on the edge of the counter if his hand hadn't shot out to intercept her.

His fingers touched the crown of her head, his hand big enough to span the whole of it, grazing the delicate slip of her kerchief as her wide eyes shot up to his, and the combined visual of her bent down before him and his hand around the back of her head had arousal hitting him like a kick in the groin.

Their eyes held, before Shanks managed to locate his voice, so rough it was almost guttural. "Mind your head."

He almost winced, although the pun had been unintentional, and it might have been a little funny if this had been the actual prelude to her going down on him, but the innocent wideness of her eyes told him Makino hadn't made the connection.

Yup. He was going to hell for this.

"Thank you," she murmured, with a nervous smile, as though at her own inattention, and it took everything he had not to fixate on her mouth, that delicate pink cupid's bow, and what it would look like wrapped around his cock.

As though the Fates conspired in that moment to deliver his punishment, her tongue darted out to wet her lips.

He had to get out of here _now_.

Pushing to her feet, Makino brushed her hands over her apron. And at least she seemed oblivious to his predicament, and the now painful erection Shanks wasn't sure his hat could hide for much longer.

“Anyway,” she said, with a soft little smile that did absolutely nothing to dispel the image of her lips around him. “I hope you have a nice walk.”

His smile softened, and Shanks was glad for her endearing innocence then, as she didn't suspect his reason for desiring a walk to be anything but fresh air and scenery, although resolved to leave before he could accidentally invite her to come with him, forcing himself to remember why he’d wanted to take the long way back to the ship in the first place.

His cock provided a cheerful reminder, and he wondered if his voice sounded strained when he chuckled, “I’ll try my best.”

“Stay safe,” Makino said, before adding, to his surprise, “Don’t kiss the sea king.”

His grin came in spite of himself, although he wasn't sure it managed to conceal his regret. “Did they tell you?”

Makino shrugged. Her small smile was curiously unreadable. “I might have overheard some things.”

He wanted to apologise, although didn’t know why. But she seemed to be taking it well. Then again, she might just believe he’d been drunk out of his mind and had hallucinated the whole encounter, although wasn’t sure which was worse―that she thought he was a drunkard, or a rake.

His smile softened, and he didn't know if his regret was for himself or for her this time, as Shanks said, “Goodnight, Makino.”

Her eyes didn’t reveal the same disappointment they had the other night, and for the briefest of seconds, Shanks thought her reaction was odd, and didn’t know if it was because he’d hoped she wouldn’t want him to go, or what to make of her smile now, which still looked hopeful, but not even a little saddened as Makino told him, “Goodnight, Captain,” before she left him to close up.

Shanks watched her go, collecting glasses and plates, and was seized once again by the urge to say something―like ask her for one last drink, or if she needed help closing up, unsure of what he hoped would even come of that.

Except he did know, watching her moving about with that gentle grace that seemed to highlight the delicate lines of her small figure, and that made him want to say _screw it_ and have her up against the bar, the way he'd kept himself from imagining, the whole day he’d spent watching her on the other side.

With difficulty, he made himself turn around, putting on his hat and cloak before pushing through the doors, and without looking back. It was late, and she would probably head straight to bed once she’d finished closing up, and no matter how much he wanted to ask if he could join her, so hard he was having trouble walking straight, he needed to look further than his own desire. However good it would feel to have her, if just for a little while, it wasn't worth breaking her heart.

It was better this way. She wouldn’t get hurt, and resent him by the time he left, although even knowing that, he couldn’t shrug off his disappointment at her acceptance, or take it as a good sign, that he hadn’t been leading her on like he’d feared.

Craving a distraction―anything to keep himself from walking back through her doors and having her right there behind the bar―Shanks turned off the path, his sights set on the water and the darkened shore, and he wasn't thinking about what might be waiting now, but had different, more urgent business in mind.

―

The doors had barely stopped swinging when she untied her apron and made for the stairs, a spring in her step that couldn’t be helped any more than her smile, wide and giddy where it split her face.

She checked in on Luffy and found him fast asleep, but even knowing it would take nothing short of an earthquake to rouse him, was careful not to make any noise as she hurried towards her bedroom. She didn’t know how long he planned to wait, but didn’t want to delay, in case he changed his mind and cut his walk short.

Lighting the oil lamp on her nightstand eased away some of the dark, and kneeling by the foot of her bed, Makino pulled out the chest.

It was a heavy trunk, carved from the same grove of trees that had been used to build the bar, and several generations old. The wood was a beautiful dark brown, and carved along the sides and on the lid with tossing waves and schools of fish. It wasn’t lined with silk or velvet, or set with stones or silver; instead, the bare wood and sturdy hinges held a humbler elegance, to echo the house that held it.

It had belonged to her mother, who’d inherited it from hers. It had been meant for her trousseau, Emiko had told her once, but she’d never married, and had long since taken out the things her own mother had collected for her, the linens and spools of silk that had been meant for her wedding dress.

_Useless things to bring into a marriage. Linens? Pah! A woman’s trousseau should hold a flintlock with a single bullet. For herself or for her husband, whichever becomes necessary first._

Now it was Makino’s, to hold her sealskin. And she supposed it was a trousseau, if an unusual one, but then it didn’t matter, when she wasn’t planning on ever getting married. She didn’t know how to explain what she was to whoever might ask her, and didn’t want to think about the alternative―that it should be taken without her consent, her fey dowry that would bind her to her husband whether she liked it or not.

It wasn’t bolted with chains and padlocks anymore, but had a single silver lock, and a key that she fished out from the hidden compartment in her vanity, and opening the chest, she withdrew her sealskin.

It spilled over her hands, the sleek fur glimmering silver in the lamplight. Not a wedding dress, and yet.

The village was asleep when she walked outside, but she kept to the shadows just in case, and knowing he’d meant to walk along the water, took the long way around, until she was confident she was far enough to strip down.

Exhilaration filled her, leaving her hands trembling as she unlaced her dress, but there was something undeniably thrilling about sneaking out like this to see him, and to get to know a different side of him. As though like her, he revealed something he wouldn’t to just anyone.

He also didn’t hold back, not out of politeness or for any other reason, and she tried not to think too hard about the fact that he hadn’t demonstrated the same interest towards her as human, but then he probably preferred women who were more forward, and at least this form gave her the courage to be that.

She left her clothes hidden under some rocks, just to be safe. And she was mindful of her surroundings, and that none of the pirates had lingered, knowing now that they knew she existed, but there was no one around as she transformed, and disappeared under the surface.

She found him in the same spot she had that morning, on the rocky reef by the waterside, and was careful to keep her presence hidden as she emerged. He looked like he'd just sat down, and she wondered then if he was waiting for her, and felt a flutter of delight at the thought.

She was about to announce herself when she heard him let go of a breath, as though he’d come to some kind of decision, and felt a flicker of panic, thinking he'd decided against waiting after all and was about to get up and leave when Shanks shifted in his seat, before his hand moved to loosen the sash around his hips.

There was a second where Makino thought he was going to strip down and swim again, but he didn't undress, just shouldered his cloak out of the way, and she felt a moment of confusion before she saw him unzip his pants, and didn't realise what he was doing before she heard the shuddering groan that left him, a sound of almost painful relief as his hand began moving, gripping his length where he'd freed it.

A different kind of panic flooded her, hot under her pelt, although it wasn't what held her captive as his head tipped back, and like the night before, she couldn't drag her eyes away, watching as he touched himself, long, firm strokes along his shaft, which she could see clearly from where she was hiding.

Shame clashed with her curiosity. It was wrong to watch him, this was _private_ , and yet she couldn't move, unable to take her eyes off him, and the shockingly erotic display, his pants around his hips and his shirt open, baring swathes of dark hair and his considerable erection where he pumped it, his strokes harder, more urgent, the slick sounds reaching her out in the water, loud in the utter stillness shrouding the shore, and she might have been worried someone would catch him if she hadn't been so captivated.

He seemed to be chasing something, his breaths hard as he quickened his pace, his eyes clenched shut and his brow furrowed with his scars, before she heard him bite down over a groan, the guttural sound seizing her whole body, and she didn't hear what it was but the _need_ in it stole her breath, and she couldn't hold back the gasp that left her.

Shanks stopped.

Frozen, Makino held her breath. And he didn't open his eyes, but then, his voice roughened although otherwise mild, “How long have you been there?”

She briefly considered saying nothing, to just disappear and pretend she'd never been there, but hesitated. She didn't know how many days he planned on staying, and how many opportunities like this she would have with him. And so...

_…not long._

Despite having caught him pleasuring himself, the grin that fleeted over his mouth held nothing but delight upon hearing her voice. It made her heart flip, and for a different reason than it had, watching him.

His laugh sounded winded, and Makino saw him discreetly adjust his pants and tug the sash closed. He still had his eyes shut. “That’s what I get for thinking I was in the clear.”

_I'm sorry, I didn't―_

"Hey," he said, cutting her off gently. "No harm done. I should have waited until I was back at the ship. This is pretty public."

He didn't seem particularly jarred by the interruption, or ashamed of what he'd been doing, although Makino didn't know why she'd expected him to be. And she wasn't sure if she was supposed to acknowledge it, or pretend she hadn't seen anything, but feared saying anything, and that if she did it would be something mortifying, like that he shouldn't stop on her account.

Searching for a segue into safer territory, she looked for something clever to say. And she still didn’t know what allowed them to communicate like this, but didn’t question it as she swam closer, and still flustered, proceeded to say the first thing that came to mind.

_Not skinny dipping tonight?_

Shanks didn’t open his eyes, and his voice found purchase within her as he chuckled, “Thought I’d be a gentleman and keep it decent this time, although so much for that.”

She was glad he couldn’t see her furious blush, although even disregarding the fact that she'd caught him touching himself, Makino had a mind to point out that with his shirt straining over his arms like that, and showing so much of his bare chest, ‘decent’ wasn’t the word she’d use, as her eyes followed the dark hair down his toned abdomen to where it disappeared under the loose sash, remembering vividly where it led, although he'd covered himself.

Then with a curious inflection, as though he’d known what she was thinking, “Are you disappointed?” Shanks asked.

Recognising the small quip from their talk that morning, there was a fleeting second where she wondered if he’d caught on, but there was nothing about him that suggested he knew it was her, and so Makino allowed her breath to ease out from where it had lodged in her throat.

Her reply came, this time with a bit more ease, and just a touch glib, _I’ll live._

His grin widened; she thought he liked that. “You sure? I can always take my pants off. All the way this time. Put us at more equal footing.”

_Oh? I’m fully covered._

“Are you now?”

The deeper quality of his voice curled through her, and she was suddenly relieved he couldn’t see her. There was something curiously liberating about being able to speak to him like this, the words formed in her mind saying exactly what she wanted, not stuttering as she might otherwise have done, and without her face to betray her every thought and feeling. She felt untethered from her usual shyness, and while not bold by anyone’s standards, it was still freeing.

“I’ve been thinking about last night,” Shanks said then, although unlike that morning, there was no mistaking what he was referring to this time. “Was it like you’d imagined? The kiss. I did my best.”

He didn't waste time beating around the bush, but where she'd thought she'd be embarrassed, Makino only felt a gentle sort of pride, knowing he’d been thinking about her, too.

And even liberated from her helpless honesty, she didn’t try to play coy, and meant it when she told him, _It was better than I’d imagined._

For such a confident man, his reaction was startlingly humble. “Yeah?” Shanks chuckled, and sounded genuinely pleased when he said, his voice deepened with a sudden warmth, “Glad to hear it.” Then, “You know, my offer still stands, if there’s anything you’d like to ask. Or try.”

Her breath shivered, and the tingling in her stomach had a different name now, sinking lower, but then the image of him touching himself was still fresh in her mind, and she knew what he was suggesting now.

It was a new kind of curiosity, this feeling. And she didn’t know what she’d expected this meeting to yield, or even what she wanted, had only wanted to see him again, unable to think about anything else as the last hours of her shift had trickled away, and the sight of him across her bar had grown progressively more distracting.

But maybe part of her had hoped for another kiss, recalling how he’d touched her, and the thought of it going further had crossed her mind even before she'd caught him pleasuring himself, but then even innocent, she wasn’t ignorant, and hadn’t worked in a bar her whole life without picking up a thing on two.

She also knew enough to be aware of the dangers, even without bringing her sealskin into it, and even before she’d learned how it might be used against her, her maidenhood had been a fiercely protected part of her, and one she hadn’t even considered sharing with someone else, before him.

And she wasn’t even sure it was what she wanted, but whatever happened, Makino knew she didn’t want it to happen _here_ , out in the open where anyone could see.

She looked up at the cottages, the windows shuttered and no light from within, but they were closer than they'd been out on the quay, and while it was too late for anyone to be out and about, she couldn’t help but worry. They all knew her here, and while she didn’t doubt they’d all had front-row tickets to her embarrassing crush, Makino wasn’t too keen on them discovering how she’d taken to spending her nights. If they did, and the pirates overheard them talking…

_We’re very close to the village._

Shanks smiled, and she didn’t know what he’d inferred from that, as he said, “I’d suggest my cabin, although I understand if that's a bit forward.” He paused, before he asked her, “Is there any place you’d be more comfortable?”

Makino held her words. She’d been thinking about it since that morning, and had gone over it in her head several times, weighing the wisdom of bringing him there, to her favourite place.

But she wanted to show him. Somehow, the feeling was greater than her fear that she’d regret it.

_I have somewhere in mind._

“Yeah?”

He sounded intrigued, and she perched on the edge of her decision for just a second before she turned, the water rippling, and allowing him to hear it. _Are you coming?_

Shanks hesitated, and didn’t open his eyes. “Can I see you?”

She’d already anticipated the question, and how to get around it.

_Open your eyes._

He did, and she saw when they found her, but she kept her presence concealed, and there was nothing to suggest her human form in this shape.

Shanks spared a glance in the direction of his ship, before she heard him sigh over a laugh, “They are never letting me forget this if I drown.”

She watched him strip down, and even expecting it this time, she wasn’t prepared for what he looked like, and was glad this form allowed her the freedom of keeping her reactions to herself, as he shucked his pants and his shirt, revealing the toned muscles that had kept her distracted for most of the day.

Her eyes were drawn to the centre of his thighs where his manhood stood, still erect, and heat bloomed in her belly, recalling him gripping it.

He left his clothes in a heap on the rocks, pausing only a moment with his straw hat, before laying it atop the pile with curious care.

The water sloshed around his legs as he strode in, his eyes fixed on her where she floated further out, but before he could get too good a look at her, she’d turned and dived under the surface.

He would have to keep up.

She heard Shanks following, and saw when he dived under, allowing him to catch a glimpse of her before zipping away. She'd observed him swimming the night before, and wouldn’t have suggested this if she hadn’t thought he could handle it.

The world below had no sky, the starless dark hoarding its secrets, formless shadows observing their passage as Makino brought him through the kelp forest, usually saffron in the sunlight when the water was clear and beryl green, although it had a different beauty at night when silver moonlight dappled the darkened canopy.

Makino knew it with her eyes closed, slipping in and around the tangled seaweed with ease, although while the kelp could easily trap a less competent swimmer, Shanks had no trouble keeping up, even as she knew it had to be difficult for him to see, and so didn’t swim too far, pausing at intervals to let him see her, and to resurface to catch his breath.

They followed the coastline, before emerging by the cliffs, far enough that Fuschia was well out of sight, only bare sky and ocean visible from the rocky bluffs where they plunged into the sea. A ship passing by would find no reason to linger, with nowhere to disembark, but the sea had many secrets, at least for those who knew to look for them.

There was an underwater passage beneath the cliffs, hidden from the world above; a crooked tunnel where it parted the rocks, invisible unless you knew it was there.

Their eyes met, as Makino nodded towards the cliffs. _We need to go under for a while. Will you be okay?_

She didn’t know why he grinned, or why it looked so filthy, as Shanks raised his brows and quipped, “Oh, don’t worry. I can hold my breath going down.”

She blinked, not sure what he even meant by that, but he didn’t elaborate, and she swallowed the urge to ask, sensing that she’d missed something.

Going by his widening grin, Shanks only looked delighted by her confusion, and wondered if her silence had revealed what her expression couldn’t, but resolved to ask him about it later, focusing instead on where she was taking him.

She went under first, and waited for him to follow, before leading him down through the dark, right to where the cliffs met the seabed. The passage was wedged between the bedrock of the island, just wide enough for one person to swim through at once. Makino had no trouble in either form, but he was much bigger than she was, and so took her time, waiting as Shanks found his way, carefully feeling out the width of the passage before easing through. It was almost too narrow to fit him, and he had to move sideways, his shoulders too wide.

He hadn’t been lying about his ability to hold his breath, but she stayed close, her heart rate increasing as she observed him squeezing through the passage. Where someone else might have panicked, he remained wholly calm, even at the part where he almost got stuck, before he managed to shimmy loose.

It was pitch black in the passage, and knowing he couldn’t see anything, she swam closer, and felt his fingers where they brushed her pelt, the touch jolting through her, but didn’t dart away like her instincts told her. Instead she stayed close as she guided him the rest of the way, allowing him to feel her when he couldn’t see where he was going.

She was starting to worry he’d run out of air when they finally cleared the passage, and swimming up beside him, Makino nudged him with her nose to signal he could resurface, and felt relief when he responded, just a hint of desperation in his broad strokes as he swam up, before breaching the surface with a gasping breath.

She emerged alongside him, watching as he took a few seconds to catch his breath, her whiskers brushing the rippling surface where they floated.

His eyes found hers, and she felt a flicker of panic, that he really would recognise her, but Shanks just grinned, lifting his eyes to the night sky where they could glimpse it, high above their heads.

The snug cove lay hidden, cupped between steep cliffs. You could only reach it from above or underwater through the tunnel, and it was even harder to reach from within the island. The landscape plunged down suddenly, a deadly drop for the unwary, and it would take a proficient climber to get to the bottom, and the crystal clear water. Coming from the island, it might be mistaken for a freshwater pool, but it was connected to the sea by the tunnel. Steep cliffs caged the deep lagoon on all sides, lush and overgrown, like a green curtain where it tumbled down. It was split by a waterfall where it trickled down from the river high above, white and delicate as a wedding veil.

The sky visible above the cliffs was thick with stars, and the moon where it filled it, limning the blue dark in silver. Fireflies bobbed over the surface of the water, little blue-green lanterns, although some had skittered away when they’d appeared. A faint, glowing moss dotted the surrounding rocks under the water, as though the pool was lit from within.

Makino watched him take it all in, so genuinely awed, he had no words to offer, but she had no eyes for the scenery, having found something far more compelling in his reaction.

She stayed in the water as he swam towards the cliffs, and watched as he climbed up on one of the surrounding crags. There was no beach here, but instead of plunging right into the pool, the bottom of the cliffs had several slanting ledges, and rocks that had fallen down throughout the centuries. The moon peered in from above, casting the tops of the cliffs in silver, although the light didn’t reach all the way to the bottom.

It was a balmy night; if it hadn’t been, Makino thought he would have been cold, with no clothes to cover himself, but Shanks didn’t seem any more bothered than he had been the night before, or by his nakedness, knowing now that she was watching.

She took him in, the scars she’d glimpsed the night before and the ones she’d missed, peeking out from the dark hair covering his chest and stomach. And he really was stunning, the width of his torso where it tapered to his narrow waist, and the lean bulge of his muscles, flexing under his skin. Water dripped in distracting patterns down his arms as he lifted a hand to push his hair back from his face.

And watching him felt different than it had at the quay, or even the beach, not like she was stealing a glimpse, but like he was showing her.

He turned towards her, but she didn’t avert her eyes like she had at the bar when he’d caught her looking, and didn’t feel ashamed now, but then his smile held nothing but delight as Shanks allowed her to see.

With his hands planted on his hips, it also made it impossible to avoid looking at a certain part of him, and she wondered if he did it on purpose, knowing she'd been watching him earlier, but at least he couldn’t see her blushing in this form.

Smiling, “Will you show me?” he asked her. “Your other form.”

His eyes held her where she floated, suddenly aware that he was seeing her, and with that unwavering focus that was at once exhilarating and terrifying. No one had ever looked at her like that, like they were trying to _see_ her, not just the shape she inhabited, but underneath both her pelt and her skin.

She wondered how he would see her if she showed him, and if it would be different than how he looked at her human form, and felt suddenly afraid, although didn’t know why―if it was because it would change how he saw her, or that it wouldn’t.

 _Not yet_ , Makino said, and wondered if he’d be disappointed, or irritated that she wouldn’t respond in turn when he’d let her see all of him, when Shanks surprised her by smiling.

“That’s okay,” he said. “Want to join me, at least? I won’t look.”

He sat down on the crag, his legs over the side like he’d been sitting on the quay, although the water didn’t reach further than his shins now.

She hesitated.

The night before had been different. She’d been in her domain, an escape at hand if she’d needed it, but he was asking her to leave the safety of the water.

It was a risk. He was bigger and stronger than she was, and if he turned on her there was no guarantee she could get away. There was no one around but the two of them, and no one to hear her if she screamed. And from the stories he’d told her, of the fisherman who raped her kin…

Shanks hadn’t said anything else, not even to cajole her, or offer assurances, but searching his presence, there was no hint of deception, or anything sinister. It was just an offer, placed in her hands without expectations.

Her heart held in her chest, a full five beats, before Makino let the transformation go.

She felt the change, the water against her bare skin, and her seal-pelt where it floated up, but he didn’t look at her, his eyes closed like he’d promised.

Carefully, she swam towards the ledge, gripping it to lift herself up and out of the water, and heard how it pushed against the rocks, but Shanks did nothing, just stayed where he was, waiting for her to take a seat.

There was a soft layer of moss on the rocks, which made it more bearable than sitting down bare-skinned right on the stone, although she felt acutely aware of herself as she sat down, her back to his as she pulled her knees up to her chest. Her sealskin wrapped around her shoulders, but she was otherwise as naked as he was, and felt a sudden shyness come over her, more exposed in another’s presence than she’d ever been, not counting the night before.

She could feel the heat from his body, and allowed her breath to ease out, although was careful not to let her grip on her presence slip. But he wasn’t reaching for it, which might have been a surprise if she hadn’t known why.

_You can open your eyes now._

She couldn’t see his face, but she could feel him, so close they were almost touching. And this was an entirely new thrill, Makino discovered, the stakes suddenly raised, and she still had no idea what she was doing. And it wasn’t like her, who liked to plan for everything, who didn’t take risks and who’d lived her whole life safe because of that, but somehow, he made her feel utterly fearless.

“This place is incredible,” Shanks said, looking around the lagoon. The moon reflected off the rocks further up, but the pool remained untouched, and the spots mottling her skin were faint, barely distinguished from the droplets running down her arms. “Although I don’t know what else I expected from a faerie dwelling.”

She smiled, although wondered if she should let him believe it, but decided against it. _This isn’t my dwelling._

“No?” He wasn’t trying to hide that he was curious, but he didn’t seem irritated by her hedging. If anything, he seemed to enjoy the offered challenge. “Keep me guessing, huh?” he chuckled. “I guess that’s your prerogative. But you live somewhere on the island, right? You know it pretty well.”

 _I do._ She waited a beat, before she said, _I’m not from here, but I’ve lived here my whole life._

“I figured,” Shanks said, and as though he’d anticipated her confusion, added, “Selkie myths aren’t common on this sea, at least not in these parts.” Then, curious, “Are there many of you?”

She weighed the risk of telling him against attempting a lie, but it wouldn’t really make a difference if he knew. If he did guess her secret, Makino doubted that would be what tipped him off, and so, _It’s just me._

Shanks was quiet. And she didn’t know what he’d read out of that, if it was that she was simply alone or that she’d lost her kin, but his voice was sincere when he told her, “I know that feeling.”

_Have you been alone?_

“A long time ago. My father left when I was young, and my mother died not many years later. I was eight when I set out to sea, and didn’t look back. It’s been almost twenty years, but I remember the feeling.”

She hadn’t been prepared for that. She’d known he’d started out young, but not _that_ young. He hadn’t been much older than Luffy was now, and she couldn’t imagine him going out into the world by himself, after losing everything.

Her heart ached. And she couldn't tell him she’d just recently lost her mother, that she knew the feeling intimately, and felt a sudden helplessness at having to hide it, just in case he connected the dots.

Instead she said, _You were very brave._

He chuckled, although it was far from a deprecating sound, even as he said, “Most would say foolhardy. Or just plain stupid.”

_Doesn’t mean it wasn’t also brave._

“That…is one of the more skilfully veiled insults I’ve ever received. Kudos.”

She blinked, before she realised what she'd inadvertently said, although the genuine delight in his voice revealed no offence taken, but then that was no surprise, knowing him as she did now.

“I was also lucky,” Shanks said. “Looking back, it hits me just how much I got away with back then. There were a lot of close calls. I’d have a full head of grey hair by now if I had a kid like me, and that’s without the naval battles.”

There were a _lot_ of things she wanted to ask regarding that last bit, but before she could even think it through, _Do you want children?_

It was an intensely personal question, but she hadn’t been able to help herself, curious since their talk that morning, but where she thought he’d deflect it, “Maybe someday,” Shanks said. “With the right person.” Then, this time with a different pitch, “Piracy isn’t always compatible with a family. Not while you’ve got a system authorising punishment by association, anyway.”

The words fell with surprising weight, for all that they were fairly vague, but she knew what he was referring to. She’d heard of the manhunts conducted after the Pirate King’s execution; had overheard her mother talking about it with Garp, even if she’d been too young to understand all of it at the time, but she was aware that it wasn't something the general public knew. And of course, the King of Pirates was a different story than most sailors who hoisted a black flag and thought themselves next in line for the throne, and whose families wouldn’t even warrant a second glance, let alone persecution by the navy.

She couldn’t help herself, but then she was so desperately curious. He didn’t flaunt the arrogance she’d expect from someone with a reputation, but the fact that he’d brought it up was telling of the kind of notoriety he must have, for it to be a factor in an eventual decision to start a family.

_Are you famous?_

She was asking far bolder questions than she normally would, but being with him like this gave her a shameless kind of courage she didn’t usually feel, like she could ask him anything.

She could imagine his grin, as Shanks said, “Depends on your definition of famous.” And it wasn’t contrary to what he’d already told her, but where he’d downplayed his importance yesterday, now he said, “I’m known in some parts of the world, but I don’t think anyone here has heard of me. Probably a good thing, though. I heard there’s a navy officer who visits sometimes. Doubt I’d be welcome at the bar if he caught wind of it.”

She almost asked, suddenly curious to know how Garp knew him, which his words suggested, but admitting she knew Garp inched too close to revealing her identity, and so she kept her mouth shut.

And oh, it was tempting, now that he’d brought up her bar, to ask about herself, if only to see what he’d say. But it was also dangerous, and she wasn’t skilled enough in directing conversations to dare attempt it, for fear that he’d see right through her.

“While we’re sharing,” Shanks said then. “What’s your name? Seeing as you know mine and all.”

 _You gave it to me_ , Makino pointed out demurely.

He chuckled. “Fair enough.”

He didn’t push her for an answer, although she didn’t know why she was surprised, recalling him that morning with Luffy, and knowing now that he wasn’t the type to use force to get his way.

Her reply came at length, and even if it was an excuse, there was still truth in it. If she told him her name, it would mean telling him her secret.

 _Names have power_.

Shanks didn’t disagree, and she wondered what he was thinking when he asked her, “Is it okay if I give you one, then? So that I have something to call you.”

Her grin was as startled as her delight. _A name?_

He was quiet for a beat, before Shanks said, “Síocháin.”

The word found her, like an anchor settling into still water, barely stirring the surface but embedding itself within her so thoroughly, Makino felt the echo throughout her whole body.

It was the same beautiful language he’d spoken that morning, with the rich inflections that suited his voice, the deep timbre where it wrapped around the sounds, enunciating them with a deliberateness that made it feel like more than just a word.

Her breath felt faint where she sat, speechless in the face of the curious gift, but then no one had ever given her anything like this.

_What does it mean?_

She could hear the smile in his voice when Shanks said, gently, “You.”

Her heart did a ridiculous little jump, and her grin hurt where she tucked it to her knees, even if he couldn’t see it. And even if she didn’t know the exact translation, Makino thought she found her answer, hearing his heart-song where it filled her now, but listening to it, she paused.

There was a new note in it; the gentlest little addition. It hadn’t disrupted the song, but had so seamlessly interwoven with the rest, she hadn’t even caught it before she listened for it now, although didn’t know what to call this longing, or its cause, a song of gentle mornings, of waiting and returning and an odyssey’s end, at once so beautiful and yet so sad, she felt how her breath shuddered out, wondering what had caused it.

They didn’t speak for a spell, a quiet unspooling between them where they sat overlooking the dark lagoon, and the fireflies floating over the mirror surface. From the island above came the sound of an owl hooting, but like the trickle of the waterfall, it didn’t disrupt the peace.

“So is this where you bring the dates you want to impress?” Shanks asked.

Her smile was startled, and Makino wondered what else transferred in her answer, as soft and sincere as the truth.

 _You’re the first_.

“Oh yeah?” She didn’t know what to call the slight lift in his voice, but thought he sounded pleased, although that, too, felt curiously humble. “Well I’m honoured.”

 _Don’t speak too soon,_ she retorted, the demure remark finding her so quickly, she didn’t even have time to feel surprise. _I might still suck you dry._

She’d heard of sea hags who drained the blood of their victims, and found it an appropriate allusion now, at least given his crew’s impression of her.

Shanks surprised her by laughing, a deeper rumble that touched something within her, below her belly. “Are you offering?”

Makino frowned, confused.

She’d missed something again, and was about to ask when he beat her to it. “Yeah, that was terrible,” Shanks sighed, with a note of sheepish apology. “Heard it just as I said it. Sorry, my brain-to-mouth filter only works about twenty percent of the time.”

That didn’t exactly help her confusion, and she had no idea what he was apologising for, when she was the one who’d made the joke about sucking him―

Oh.

 _Oh_.

She briefly considered throwing herself in the water, and was desperately glad he couldn’t see the blush glowing from her skin, although wondered if he could feel it, with how close they were sitting.

She hadn't responded, and didn’t know what her silence told him, if it was that she’d taken offence or remained oblivious, and wondered if she would have preferred it to be the last one, suddenly assaulted by the image, inspired by what she'd seen him doing earlier, and she wasn’t prepared for the heat that plummeted right through the bottom of her stomach to settle between her legs.

In an effort to change the subject, although more skilfully than she would have managed, at least in her current state, “I’m not the first human you’ve spoken to,” Shanks said.

Still distracted by his earlier suggestion, it took her a second to catch up, but when she did, panic was quick to take over, although just as Makino thought he was about to tell her the jig was up, “Luffy,” Shanks explained. It sounded like he was smiling. “Terrible liar. I figured something was up.” But then, “Don’t worry,” he said gently, surprising her. “He kept your secret. He’s a good kid.”

Her heart swelled, and she was glad she didn’t need her voice to speak, suddenly overcome by that.

 _He is._ Then after a beat, _It’s safer with children. Secrets._

“Yeah,” Shanks said, a warmth in his voice that curled through her. “It’s a trait people often lose as they grow older, although something tells me he won’t.”

Makino smiled. _No_ , she agreed. _He’s different._

“Do you know anyone else in the village?”

She considered how to answer that, wondering if it would transfer to her inner voice if she attempted to lie, but not willing to risk it, she tried a different approach. Not a lie, but not a direct answer, although hoped he wouldn’t question it.

 _It’s dangerous,_ she said. And she was painfully aware of it, their backs nearly touching. How easy it would be for him to turn around and take her, if he made up his mind. _Trust._

Shanks made a sound, like a chuckle but not quite. Makino thought it sounded wrong, like his voice when he said, “I know.” And with a weight of understanding, “I’ve made the mistake of placing trust where I shouldn’t.”

She felt his arm moving, before her confusion gave way to realisation, and glancing over her shoulder saw him touch his brow.

_Your scars?_

“Not my proudest moment,” Shanks conceded wryly, although it lacked the bitterness she might have expected. “But then I was pretty obnoxious back then. A bit too high on myself to see far past my own nose. Should have been more careful, but you live and you learn, I guess.”

She thought he would leave it at that, but then, “I lost a fight,” he explained. His voice sounded different, suddenly serious. “Well, technically I won, although it doesn’t feel like it, but then I’m pretty sure that was his intention.”

_Who?_

He didn’t answer right away, but then he said, “Someone I’m glad you’ll never meet.”

The darker edge in his voice made her shiver. Makino thought it didn't suit it.

She wanted to ask more, but held her words, feeling the weight of what they implied.

She hoped he wouldn’t regret trusting her.

“You have nothing to fear from me,” Shanks said then, and this time his voice had a pitch that had goosebumps pebbling her bare skin, although not with fear. “I want you to know that.”

It was spoken like a promise, and while she’d already known him to be a man of his word, it didn’t diminish the effect of hearing him say it.

Then, “I’d love to see you,” he continued, with a gentler note, and there was no more demand in it than there’d ever been. “If you’ll let me.”

Desire warred with her better judgement, which wasn’t used to meeting resistance. She’d always been good at talking herself out of things, especially the kind that required any sort of gamble, and wasn’t used to this feeling―that even knowing the risk, there was part of her willing to take it. As though it had always been there, under the surface; a courage that wouldn’t let itself bend as easily as she’d once thought.

She wanted to know what it would be like to have him look at her with desire; to have him see her for everything she was, even if she didn’t know if it would change him.

They sat in silence as she teetered between decisions. And just two days ago she wouldn’t so much as have entertained the idea of revealing herself to anyone, much less a pirate, but despite everything that was at stake, she couldn’t help but wonder what would happen.

All she had to do was turn around. She could touch his shoulder and make him look at her. It was that easy.

She was just about to do it when, “I should probably head back soon,” Shanks said, breaking the spell as her breath rushed out. “Or the guys will come looking for me. They’re not convinced you’ve only got good and honest intentions with me.”

Makino didn't reply. Her heart was beating so fast she wondered if he could hear it, but didn’t know if it was relief she felt that he’d interrupted her, and if she’d just been about to make a huge mistake.

But her disappointment was genuine, even though it was late, and she had to be up at daybreak to finish the chores she’d neglected in order to meet him.

In an attempt at levity, although more for her own sake, _Maybe they’re right to be worried._

“Is it bad that I can’t tell if you’re joking?”

She hesitated, before she asked him, _Do you trust me?_

Shanks didn’t miss a beat. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” Then, “And do you?” he asked her. “Trust me.”

Makino smiled, even if he couldn’t see it. _You wouldn’t be here if I didn’t._

A lull passed where neither of them moved to leave, but his reminder had helped clear her head a bit, and to recognise that while he wouldn’t force himself on her, there were other implications to revealing her identity. Aside from the fact that she’d wilfully deceived him, it would irrevocably change the way he saw her.

He liked her like this, and she liked the way it felt, being with him this way, when he found her mysterious and interesting, but more than anything, _desirable_. She didn’t want that to change, but feared it would, and worse―that he’d be disappointed when he realised that his mystical sea-maiden was none other than the shy, homely barmaid who owned the local tavern, and that she wasn’t as interesting as he’d believed, or as beautiful. And he had to be expecting she was―he’d already told her what the legends said about her kind, but she’d seen his reaction to her human form, and while there’d been that initial flicker of interest at their first meeting, he’d dismissed it so quickly, she knew he couldn’t find her very beautiful. Not like he was hoping she would be, anyway.

She feared his disappointment. In that moment, the feeling was suddenly overwhelming, imagining the look on his face if she revealed herself. And he wasn’t a cruel man―his heart begged to differ, and his actions―but Makino didn’t know if his rejection would be any kinder.

And it was inevitable. Had he been interested in her as she was, he would have done something by now; she’d certainly given him enough opportunities. But she knew why he’d stayed, and while it had delighted her before that she could have tempted a man like him to change his mind, now it was a hollow feeling, recognising that his intrigue was based on a lie. That when the magic was gone, all that was left would be her, and he would have no reason to stay. And she knew he was leaving eventually, that nothing could keep a pirate like him from setting sail, but as long as she remained a mystery, he might delay his departure.

She wanted to have him like this for a little while longer―to get to know him this way, and to be someone he desired, or at least thought he did. And when he left…well. That part had always been in the cards, but at least while he was here, she could make the most of it.

But she would have to be more careful, or he really would catch on. She’d been reckless tonight, but if she wanted to keep her identity hidden, it would mean exercising more caution.

Rising to her feet, Makino drew her sealskin around her, feeling the transformation where it changed her, before she dived into the pool.

When she poked her head through the surface, it was to find Shanks watching the waterline, but then he’d likely assumed she would have changed already.

“You know,” he said, cocking his head where he took her in, getting a closer look at her now. “You’re stupidly cute in this form.”

Even without her human face, Makino wondered if her reaction was visible when his grin widened. Pushing to his feet, Shanks straightened to his full height, and she caught another shameless glimpse before he dived off the ledge, cutting through the surface so smoothly it barely disturbed the fireflies, and for a beat the hidden lagoon was entirely still, before he resurfaced in front of her.

Water dripped from his beard and his lashes, his rugged features darkened, like the nix from the stories, the handsome water sprite enchanting young maidens to his lake, although even here, something about him seemed to resist the otherworldly. Not like he didn't belong, but like he'd made a place for himself in spite of it, at ease in her element in a way she’d never imagined a human could be, but then she’d never thought she would be able to share this part of her world, or even this place, with anyone.

His eyes were darkened with a feeling she didn’t understand until he spoke. “Can I ask you for a kiss this time?”

Her heart skipped, and he couldn’t see that she was smiling. _Like this?_

Shanks grinned, but closed his eyes. “I’ll leave that up to you.”

Makino watched him, so close she would only have to change and she'd be able to touch him. And she’d already told herself she needed to be careful, and this was the opposite of exercising caution, but the ache within her won out over her better judgement, compelled by something stronger than reason.

It wasn’t the moon’s power, the one he exuded, an authority that compelled notice but not deference, or at least not an unwilling one, as she let the transformation go, the water rippling gently, and knew he felt it, but Shanks didn’t open his eyes. And she wondered at the trust she felt that he wouldn’t, and how many in his position could have exerted the same control.

She felt the deepening ache at the centre of her thighs, like a pressure begging to be alleviated, the sensation new and half-maddening, unsure what she was even supposed to do with it. Except kiss him, which felt suddenly like the only thing she wanted to do.

Her hand cupped his cheek, small and pale against his face, and the dark stubble of his beard coarse but not unpleasant, recalling how it had felt, kissing him. Running her fingers through it, her thumb lightly brushed the edges of his scars where they’d been carved into his skin, as she thought of what he’d told her, about how they'd been given to him.

Shanks said nothing, only allowed her to touch him, the tension in his brow smoothing out under the pads of her fingers. Fireflies danced around them where they floated, unheeding of their presence now, as though they were part of the water.

Tilting her head, Makino shyly pressed her mouth to his, the way she’d done the night before, although with a bit more certainty now that she knew, parting her lips softly under his as her hands moved to cradle his face, and no sooner had his arms come around her, pulling her to him.

It wasn't like he'd kissed her before, roughly and fervently, although it was no less passionate, his tongue parting her lips as he tipped her head back, kissing her with a calm intensity that had her toes curling, as a soft moan caught against the back of her throat. Unlike at the quay, they were hip to hip, the water absolving their height difference and allowing her to feel every part of him where he held her, buoyed by her powers, which kept them afloat.

He was so big, but there was none of the fear she'd expected, feeling small against him, finding instead a curious sense of safety in his arms around her, and a thrill, allowed to touch the parts of him she'd only looked at from afar.

She didn’t know if it was curiosity that guided her or that new feeling, her hands brushing his shoulders shyly, and his arms, feeling the tempting bulge of his biceps under her fingers, too small to even span the width of them.

But her careful touches encouraged him to respond, as the hand not cradling her neck touched her bare skin, drawing a shivering gasp from her lips, although her instinct wasn’t to pull away but to arch into his hand, big where it cupped her waist in full.

His thumb swept lightly over her ribs and her stomach, as though both feeling out her shape and testing her reactions, and Makino didn’t feel in control of the sounds his touches yielded, like the little moan that left her when the rough pad of his thumb skimmed the underside of her breast, and she felt the muscles in his arms clenching, like she'd caught him off guard.

Then he was kissing her harder, pulling her closer as her arms wound around his neck, and his hands slid over her body, a bit more brazen in their exploration.

And she’d never been touched like this, or thought it could feel like this―like relief even as it deepened the now painful throbbing between her legs, but whenever he came close, his fingers skirted the source of the ache, and without knowing what she was even doing, she’d pressed herself closer.

The tip of his cock nudged against her entrance, sending a jolt shooting through her whole body, and the sound that left her didn’t immediately register as her voice, jarringly loud within the still lagoon as Makino broke the kiss with a gasp, her hands bracing on his shoulders.

Their foreheads touching, she heard Shanks catch his breath. And he didn’t touch her further, but it was what allowed her head to clear, at least enough to recognise that this was probably not the right time or place for that, at least while they were in the water.

She heard from his chuckle that he'd been thinking the same, a shockingly erotic sound as Shanks said roughly, “Should probably go, or I won’t be afloat for much longer.” Then he grinned, and conceded, “Although part of me is pretty buoyant.” As though to punctuate the words, she felt his stiff length where it brushed against her thigh, and started. “Sorry about that.”

Her smile was shy, as Makino opened her mouth to tell him she didn't mind. “I―”

Horror seized her, and she clamped her mouth shut before her voice could leave her.

Her heart flung itself against her ribcage, although she hoped he thought it was just from the kiss, but then it wasn’t far from the truth, when it had left her so dazed she’d completely forgotten herself.

With her mind still clouded, it took effort to remember how to speak to him, although when she did, instead of an assurance, it let slip something else entirely.

_Is it painful?_

Shanks grinned, and she was momentarily distracted by what it did to his face. Their foreheads were still touching, and she felt the soft, winded laugh that left him, as though at her curiosity. His voice sounded deeper when he rumbled, “Little uncomfortable, but it’s nothing I can’t take care of later. Privately this time.”

It was teasingly said, holding no offence, but the reminder stole her breath, and Makino had to stop herself before she could do something reckless, like ask him to show her.

Her hands curled where they braced on his shoulders, as she thought of what he'd been doing earlier. And she’d never touched someone like that, or been with someone the way she wanted him now, lightheaded from just thinking about it, even as she didn't know exactly what to imagine.

She felt his fingers brushing her cheek, sliding along her jaw before gently cradling her neck. His thumb swept the delicate arch of her cheekbone, and her bottom lip, feeling the shape, as though seeing through touch.

Makino held her breath.

His hand shifted then, as though to reach for her hair, when panic gripped her, fearing he would put the pieces together if he noticed just how short it was, and before he could run his fingers through it she’d transformed.

She felt as her smaller form slipped from his arms, but Shanks didn’t try to keep her, just let her go, and when he opened his eyes she was fully changed, but Makino barely allowed him a glimpse this time before diving under the water.

She brought him back the way they’d come, through the underwater passage, although stayed closer this time, dipping around him where he swam, and when she brushed against him it wasn’t to guide him, was just to touch him, before darting away, and didn’t know if she was showing off or just being cheeky, but felt his delight where it chased her through the depths.

Fuschia lay waiting where they’d left it. She could see Party’s porch light, but the closed shutters surrendered nothing else. She should have been in bed hours ago.

They’d been gone a while, but the village was quiet, and his ship dark save the red lanterns on deck. Walking out of the water, Shanks found his clothes where he'd left them, and Makino watched him pulling on his pants, although he took his time doing it, as though to let her get a good look. He didn’t bother buttoning his shirt, but made a little flourish with his hat before he put it on, a dashing gesture she wondered if was for her sake or just for the joy that lit his handsome features, his grin so wide she could see it from the water, and prompting her own, although she didn't know what it looked like in this form.

“We should do this again,” Shanks said, as he turned towards her. She’d come up all the way to the shoreline, the water barely high enough to allow her to stay afloat.

_Are you staying?_

She already knew the answer, but he didn’t know that, and she was curious to see what he would tell her, and if it was the same he’d told her earlier.

His smile turned soft, as Shanks said, “Until I’ve found the answer to something.”

It wasn’t any more specific, which made her wonder, having expected him to be more upfront about it―to say it was her, when he’d avoided it earlier at the bar, but she couldn’t point it out, when she wasn’t supposed to know that.

She saw him look towards his ship where it lay anchored, before he told her, smiling, “You’re welcome aboard my ship anytime. You know where to find me if you need your curiosity sated. About anything.”

The suggestion wasn’t subtle, as heat punched right through her gut, and she couldn’t control her reaction, and knew he’d caught it when Shanks threw his head back with a laugh.

The sound followed her under the surface, filling her like the song of his heart, the steady pulse that she felt as she cut through the undersea. She swam without looking where she was going, the water carrying her like she was flying, soaring along the currents as she dipped and spun, her chest so full it felt like it was going to burst.

She was glad she’d hidden her clothes so far away, and didn’t fear that he’d followed her as she resurfaced, the transformation releasing her as she walked out of the water and onto the pebbled beach. It was still dark, but the sky was growing lighter, a touch of pink softening the far horizon. And it wasn’t the wisest decision, to keep foregoing sleep just so she could keep meeting him, knowing there’d be another long day ahead, but he would be there, and she couldn’t make herself feel regret when she couldn’t stop _smiling_.

And she didn’t know what to do with that, wanting both parts of him, and didn’t know what would even come of this, but in that moment, Makino didn’t care, was just happy to have this. Her little secret, and her yearning, still new and strange, but that hers, too.

Her heart was so light it could have floated away, as she dressed quickly, too distracted to tighten the laces of her bodice or her boots, humming under her breath, and didn’t know how she’d ever sleep, when she felt like she’d rather shuck her clothes and dance under the moonlight.

She’d never been this happy, but in her distraction, she forgot to be wary, although couldn't recall why she needed to be, here in her little port where she’d always been safe. And she didn’t think of danger as she lifted her skirts and ran up the sloping rise towards the village, a wild, ridiculous laugh threatening at the base of her ribs.

If she hadn’t been so preoccupied―if she’d paused for just a moment to think about anything else―she might have noticed that the rocks she’d hidden her clothes under had been moved while she’d been away.

And she might have seen the figure watching from the shadows of the fishing huts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those who've read Mnemosyne will feel no surprise that Makino's biggest competitor for Shanks' affection is...herself.


End file.
